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THE  REFUSAL. 


BY  MRS.  WEST, 


AUTHOR  OF   THE    "  TALE    OF    THE    TIMES,       "  INFIDEL    FA- 
THER," "  gossip's  story,"  &c. 


O,  momentary  grace  of  mortal  man, 

"Which  we  more  hunt  for  than  the  grace  of  God! 

Who  builds  his  hope  in  air  of  your  fair  looks, 

Lives  like  a  drunken  sailor  on  a  mast, 

Heady  with  every  nod  to  tumble  down 

Into  the  fatal  bowels  of  the  deep. 

SHAKESPEARE, 


THREE  VOLUMES  IN  TWO. 


VOL.  I. 


PHILADELPHIA  : 
PRINTED  FOR  M.  CAREY,  NO.  122,  MARKET-STREET. 

SOLD  IX  PHILADELPHIA  BY  BIRCH  &  SMALL,  BRADFORD  &  IN- 
SKEEP,  EDWARD  EARLE,  J.  &  A.  Y.  HUMPHREY'S,  W.  W.  WOOD- 
WARD ;  IN  NEW-YORK,  BY  INSKEEP  &  BRADFORD,  M.  &  W. 
WARD  AND  D.  LONGWORTH;  IN  BALTIMORE,  BY  HUNTER  & 
ROBINSON,  WARNER  &  HANNA,  AND  JOHN   KINGSTON. 

A.  SMALL,  PRINTER. 

1810. 


CONTENTS  OF  VOLUME  t 


Introduction  by  the  editor.  A  tribute  from  par- 
tial friendship  to   departed  excellence,  without 
any  base  mixture  of  envy  or  vanity,  containing 
the  life  and  opinions  of  the  late  Mrs.  Pruden- 
tia  Homespun  ...  7 

Introduction   by   Mrs.    Prudentia    Homespun,  a 
fragment         -  -  -  25 

CHAPTER  I. 
Portrait  of  a  military  humourist,  earlv  soured  by 
neglect,  and  rendered  miserable  bv  prosperity     33 
CHAPTER  II.  • 
The  heroine  liberated  from  a  convent  to  be  confi- 
ned  in    a  castle,   where   having  enchanted  her 
keeper,  she  prepared  for  herself  imaginary  fet- 
ters -  -  -  -  -  -.-  43 

CHAPTER  III. 
The  mountain  is  labour         -  -  -         -         57 

CHAPTER  IV. 
The  mountain  delivered  of  a  Phcenix  carved  in 
marble  ......  ^q 

CHAPTER  V. 
Cupid  is  introduced,  who  as  usual  is  very  knavish 
and  troublesome  89 
CHAPTER  VI. 
More  wonders  ;  an  old  maid  loses  an  opportunity 
of  discovering  a  love  secret  for  want  of  curiosi- 
ty           105 

CHAPTER  VII. 
Presents  all  in  the  wrong,  with  a  peep  behind  the 
curtain         -  -  -  -  -  _         113 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
An  instance  of  Mrs.  Prudentia's  bad  management. 
Hymen  pops  into  the  first  volume  with  very  lit- 
tle pre-arrangerhent,  and  thus  the  narrative  cea- 
ses to  be  interesting         -  12F 


IV  CONTENTS. 

Introductory  chapter  ...  -  144 

The  right  of  literary  dozing  asserted.    Mrs.  Pru- 
dentia  claims  the  privilege  and  exemplifies  its 
advantages  -  -  -  -  -  145 

CHAPTER  IX. 
The  polite  conversation  of  sensible  women.     The 
roses  in  Hymen's    Paradise  are  not   without 
thorns  -  -  -  -  -  -         151 

CHAPTER  X. 
Mrs.  Prudentia  sports  with  the  health  and  repose 
of  her  neighbours  by  telling  half  a  secret  163 

CHAPTER  XI. 
The  prospect  of  unravelling  the  clue  of  mystery 
ends  in  disappointment,  and  the  business  seems 
more  perplexed  than  ever  -         -  -  172 

CHAPTER  XII. 
A  coterie  of  fashion  enjoying  their  favourite  re- 
gale, to  which  is  added  the  portrait  of  a  most 
valuable  husband  -  -  -  -  182 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
A  menagerie  of  singular  animals,  patriots,  states- 
men, fine  gentlemen,  and  cicisbeos  -  195 
CHAPTER  XIV. 
A  dramatic  critique  for  the  edification  of  a  cox- 
comb        ------         207 

CHAPTER  XV. 
A  phcenix,  but  not  from  Araby  the  blest,  collects 
the  most  precious  balms,  and  fires  his  funeral 
pile  -  -  223 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
The  malice  of  a  disappointed  coxcomb.  A  caution 
to  young  mothers  -  232 


THE  REFUSAL. 


INTRODUCTION  BY  THE  EDITOR 


I  am  afraid  of  this  gunpowder  Percy,  though  he  be  dead. 
What  if  he  should  only  counterfeit  ? 

SHAKESPEARE. 

AT  is  with  the  deepest  concern  that  I  announce  to  the 
public  the  demise  of  that  inimitable  author,  Mrs.  Pru- 
dentia  Homespun.  Her  unrivalled  talents  and  unim- 
peached  celebrity  render  eulogium  impertinent ;  other- 
wise I  should  observe,  that  she  was  matchless  in  taste, 
unique  in  style,  and  absolutely  transcendant  in  every 
department  of  literature.  Yet,  by  a  singular  felicity  of 
temperament,  this  lofty  eminence  in  the  temple  of  fame 
did  not  in  the  least  injure  the  engaging  simplicity  of 
her  character  ;  and,  by  a  rare  concurrence  of  events, 
she  was  courted  and  respected  by  her  superiors,  ad- 
mired and  loved  by  her  equals,  and  revered  by  her  in- 
feriors. Slander  never  tainted  her  fame,  and  envy 
never  haunted  her  steps.  So  great  was  her  literary 
reputation,  so  enchanting  were  her  manners,  that  I  am 
convinced  the  highest  connections,  and  the  most  lucra- 
tive places  and  pensions,  courted  her  acceptance  ;  nay, 
(though  she  never  told  me  so)  that  she  absolutely  refus- 
ed many  valuable  presents.  I  can  only  attribute  it  to 
some  almost  blameable  peculiarity  in  her  disposition, 
that  she  rejected  these  splendid  allurements,  and  with 
more  than  Spartan  rigidity  spent  her  life  in  parsimoni- 
ous obscurity.  I  confess,  these  are  conjectures  of  my 
j  own,  but  I  can  no  otherwise  account  for  such  an  author 

y      VOL.  I.  B 


8  THE  REFUSAL. 

remaining  in  a  first  floor  at  D anbury,  during  an  age 
so  distinguished  lor  its  liberal  patronage  of  science 
and  intellect.  Probably  this  mystery  will  be  develop- 
ed in  the  next  volume  of"  Public  Characters,"  as  that 
inimitable  work  is  constantly  enriched  with  a  profusion 
of  anecdotes,  and  a  disclosure  of  motives,  which  ab- 
solutely astonish  the  most  intimate  associates  of  the 
parties  of  whom  they  are  related. 

To  return  to  my  lamented,  incomparable friend, 

I  was  going  to  add,  but  recollecting  that  such  a  term 
might  be  twisted  into  an  insinuation  that  I  meant  to 
affect  reciprocity  of  character,  and  knowing  that  not 
only  humility  but  also  self-abasement  is  strictly  requir- 
ed in  every  new  adventurer  on  the  ocean  of  literature, 
I  here  proclaim,  with  blushing  consciousness,  my  to- 
tal unworthiness  of  that  inestimable  title.  No:  what- 
ever hereafter  I  may  seem  to  insinuate,  and  though 
for  more  than  twenty  years  we  met  every  morning  to 
moralize  on  the  increasing  faults  of  our  acquaintance  ; 
though  we  prolonged  the  painful  theme  till  we  frequent- 
ly spoiled  our  respective  mutton  steaks,  and  only  part- 
ed to  meet  again  in  the  evening  to  refresh  our  harassed 
spirits  with  tea,  suspend 'our  schemes  of  reformation 
till  the  next  day,  and  adjourn  to  cribbage  ;  though  in 
talking  of  human  depravity  we  have  grown  breathless 
with  virtuous  rage,  and  too  indignant  to  hear  each 
others  remarks  ;  though  I  was  the  depository  of  her 
secrets,  the  patient  and  wakeful  hearer  of  all  her  ma- 
nuscripts, the  nurse  of  her  geraniums  and  the  protec- 
tress of  her  cat  during  her  summer  excursions  ; — 
though  she  respected  my  opinion  next  to  Betty's,  and 
allowed  me  to  be  admitted  before  she  had  put  on  her 
fly  cap  in  the  morning ; — notwithstanding  all  these 
proofs  of  esteem,  still  I  will  ever  say,  (as  I  know  I 
must)  that  the  only  weakness  I  ever  discovered  in  the 
illustrious  Prudeutia  was  her  kind,  partial  affection  to 
so  stupid,  so  ignorant,  so*  unworthy  a  character,  as  the 
poor  Eleanor  Singleton,  whose  obscure  name  has  been 
immortalized  by  being  inserted  in  the  works  destined 
to  last  M  till  lime  and  language  arc  no  more." 


THE  REFUSAL.  9 

When  my  readers  and  myself  have  hreathed  after 
this  formidable  period,  I  must  proceed  to  remark,  that 
these  were  not  the  only  indubitable  proofs  of  her  at- 
tach ment.  My  late  friend,  (gentle  reader,  after  the 
above  abjuration  I  am  authorised  to  use  an  epithet  so 
soothing  to  my  feelings)  has  appointed  me  her  execu- 
tor and  residuary  legatee.  A  mine  of  wealth  is  thus 
come  into  my  possession,  consisting,  not  of  goods  and 
apparel,  houses  and  lands,  plate  and  jewels,  but  of  two 
scrutoires  and  five  trunks,  filled  with  the  unpublished 
offspring  of  her  prolific  pen;  all  of  which,  with  the 
unwearied  perseverance  of  a  laborious  editor,  I  here- 
by promise  to  present  successively  to  an  admiring  and 
generous  public,  being  fully  convinced  that  my  friend 
could  have  consigned  any  of  her  lucubrations  to  oblivion, 
only  through  excessive  modesty,  or  culpable  inertness  ; 
foibles  which  it  is  my  duty  to  counteract.  She  indeed 
fell  into  the  common  error  ol  great  minds,  that  of  think- 
ing it  more  improving  and  gratifying  to  study  what 
was  excellent,  than  to  devour  what  was  new  ;  and  she 
used  to  talk  with  great  pathos  of  living  authors  bury- 
ing themselves  under  their  own  works,  and  of  dead 
ones  being  exposed  by  their  injudicious  friends,  in  a 
pillory  made  of  the  manuscripts  they  had  themselves 
devoted  to  the  flames. 

To  justify  myself  for  the  steps  I  mean  to  take,  I 
shall  premise  that  the  conduct  of  people  often  differs 
widely  from  their  avowed  opinions.  If  Mrs.  Pruden- 
tia  really  dreaded  this  posthumous  assassination,  (as 
she  called -it)  why  did  not  she  destroy  every  paper  in 
her  possession,  that  being  the  only  certain  method  of 
crippling  the  industry  of  her  editor  and  bookseller, 
and  disappointing  the  public,  who  read  nothing  with 
such  eagerness  as  those  last  words  and  unfinished  frag- 
ments, which  steal  into  the  world  under  the  interdict 
of  their  author.  Her  careful  preservation  of  these 
multitudinous  writings,  convinces  me  she  had  a  high 
opinion  of  their  intrinsic  worth,  and  as  to  their  being 
preserved  merely  for  the  perus*al  of  private  friends,  I 
confess"' this   appears  a  very  fastidious  discrimination, 


10  THE  REFUSAL. 

which  either  conveys  a  bad  compliment  to  our  intimates, 
by  appropriating  our  stupidity  to  their  sole  use,  or  to 
the  work',  by  withholding  our  most  delectable  dainties 
from  their  participation.  Being  myself  of  a  most 
frank  and  communicative  disposition,  I  am  resolved  to 
draw  these  "  gems  of  purest  ray  serene"  from  the  dark 
mine  where  their  lustre  has  been  long  concealed;  and 
(to  corne  to  the  point  at  once)  my  liberal-minded  gen- 
tlemen of  the  trade,*  who  are  disposed  to  purchase  se- 
cret correspondence,  biographical  memoirs,  sketches  oi 
character,  ethical  fragments,  amusing  anecdotes,  poet- 
ical effusions,  political  guesses,  circumstantial  details 
on  mysterious  subjects,  elucidations  of  popular  topics, 
&.C.  &c.  &c.  never  intended  for  publication,  and  war- 
ranted originals  by  a  celebrated  writer  lately  deceased, 
are  desired  to  send  their  proposals,  postpaid,  to  Mrs. 
Eleanor  Singleton,  at  Mrs.  Pattypan's  opposite  the 
Blue  Lion,  Danbury.  I  scorn  to  puff  my  goods, 
hut  it  is  hoped  that  a  delicate  attention  will  be  paid  to 
the  reputation  of  the  dead,  and  to  the  feelings  of  the 
living,  as,  for  reasons  that  must  be  obvious,  I  have  de- 
termined that  the  best  bidder  shall  be  the  purchaser. 

Certain  of  receiving  numerous  applications,  and  be- 
ing also  well  aware  of  that  vile  spirit  of  piracy  which 
prompts  surreptitious  imitations  of  the  efforts  of  geni- 
us, from  pomade  divine,  and  invisible  petticoats,  to 
gas  lights  and  metallic  tractors,  I  shall  be  cautious  of 
making  such  discoveries  of  my  testamentary  wealth  as 
may  excite  fraudulent  plagiarism  ;  I  shall  only,  there- 
fore, inform  the  world,  that  in  her  posthumous  compo- 
sitions, my  friend  has  fallen  into  the  most  popular 
course  of  study,  I  mean  a  fictitious  narrative,  adapted 
to  real  and  well  known  characters.  In  these  delecta- 
ble tales,  truth  and  falsehood,  calumny  and  flattery, 
are  blended  with  such  enchanting  confusion,  that  all 
the  world  is  at  once  enjoying  the  exquisite  delight  of 
finding  out  secrets,  and  hearing  scandal,  without  under- 
going the  fatigue  of  morning  visits,  or  evening  dissi- 
pation. The  equivocation  of  ambiguous  delineation  is 
so  charmingly  preserved  in  these   compositions,  that 


THE  REFUSAL.  11 

not  only  are  reputations  murdered  with  impunity,  but 
all  parties,  though  looking  at  the  same  magic  lan- 
thorn,  see  the  caricature  of  their  neighbours,  without 
anv  one  of  them  perceiving  his  own.  Mrs.  Overdo 
and  Lady  Fillagree  laughed  themselves  into  hysterics 
at  the  description  of  a  rout  in  "  A  peep  behind  the 
Curtain,"  which  each  of  them  with  well  bred  defer- 
ence assigned  to  the  petit  souper  of  her  rival,  and  Miss 
Imoinda  Screechwell  employed  four  mornings  in  copy- 
ing the  character  of  Sir  Harmony  Scaramouch,  from 
"  Views  of  Fashion,"  under  the  persuasion  that  it  was 
designed  for  her  sister's  lover,  while  unhappily  all  her 
acquaintance  discovered  it  to  be  the  invulnerable  di- 
lettante, at  whose  heart  she  had  long  warbled  in  vain. 
Never  having  had  a  taste  for  charades  and  riddles,  I  fe- 
licitate the  public  on  the  enigmatical  novelties  thus  hap- 
pily brought  in  to  supply  the  worn-out  amusements  of 
6uv  grandmothers,  which  at  best  could  only  be  called 
innocent  to  counterbalance  their  numerous  disadvan- 
tages in  putting  wit  and  ingenuity  on  the  stretch.  Eve- 
ry bodv  cannot  command  those  qualities,  and  there- 
fore somebody's  self-love  must  be  wounded  by  requir- 
ing it  of  them.  But  the  whole  circle  sits  down  on 
equal  terms  at  the  modern  puzzle,  nothing  being  neces- 
sarv  but  a  knowledge  of  the  world  and  a  disposition  to 
communicate  that  knowledge,  talents  which  in  the 
present  day  all  possess  excepting  just  those  people 
whom  nobody  knows.  And  as  to  the  comparative  in- 
nocence of  the  occupation,  why  really,  though  the  au- 
thors do  contrive  to  catch  one  leading  feature,  or  one 
known  anecdote  of  some  demirep  or  black  legs  of 
high  ton,  to  do  them  justice,  they  generally  distort 
the  former  so  grossly,  and  add  so  much  of  fiction  to 
the  latter,  that  the  real  parties  are  no  more  delineated 
than  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  was  by  the  sign  of  his 
friend  the  inn-keeper.  If  slander  therefore  be  fiction 
it  is  not  slander  ;  and  this  decision  rests  upon  the  same 
ground  as  the  dictum,  that  it  is  truth  which  constitutes 
a  libel.     As  then  we  can  only  injure  our  neighbours' 

i     reputation  by  describing  them  as  they  are,  authors  may 

//  b  2 


jo  THE  REFUSAL. 

go  on  making  out  their  winter  dainties  for  summer  con- 
sumption without  fear  of  injuring  the  minds  of  their 
readers,  or  impugning  their  own  safety. 

My  late  friend,  (who,  amid -a  thousand  excellent 
qualities,  was  unhappily  a  little  too  morose  and  un- 
complying in  her  morality)  was  for  a  long  time  decid- 
edly averse  to  this  mode  of  diffusing  information  and 
amusement,  affirming  that  these  mixtures  of  fiction 
and  truth  tended  to  check  the  restraining  impulses  of 
laudable  shame,  and  to  create  the  demons  they  des- 
cribed. .But  I  suspect  that  a  correspondence  with  her 
bookseller,  which  she  never  permitted  me  to  see,  caus- 
ed an  alteration  in  her  opinions  ;  and  I  think  they  un- 
derwent a  complete  revolution  about  the  time  of  the 
last  modification  of  the  income  tax,  when  the  humbler 
part  of  the  middle  classes  were  so  providently  remov- 
ed from  all  temptation  to  excess  by  having  every  indul- 
gence placed  beyond  their  reach.  I  think  it  was  just 
then  that  my  friend  changed  her  bold  style  of  general 
declamation  to  petty  detail,  and  preferred  aiming  at 
the  vicious  with  a  rifle- barrelled  gun  to  opening  a  bat- 
tery against  vice,  llov/  rich  a  treat  of  innuendo 
and  surmise  may  the  public  expect  when  I  inform 
them,  that  she  has  since  that  time  collected  upwards 
of  twelve  hundred  anecdotes  of  public  characters  with 
no  character  at  all,  gentlemen  void  of  gentility,  and 
ladies  of  repute  notoriously  disreputable  ?  But  won- 
derful as  my  friend's  industry  was,  she  had  supple- 
mentary aids  which  few  others  could  boast.  Besides 
an  extensive  correspondence  with  the  most  penetrating 
and  active  of  our  sisterhood  in  every  county-town  in 
the  kingdom,  she  was  in  treaty  with  the  box-keepers 
at  all  the  theatres,  with  the  most  fashionable  milliners 
and  tovmen,  and  the  mistresses  of  lodging-houses  at 
aU  public  places.  Nay,  so  well  known  was  her  thirst 
for  information,  that  she  often  received  hints  from  peo- 
ple in  very  inferior  situations,  whom  the  high  orders 
(from  perhaps  rather  indiscreet  generosity)  suppose  to 
be  deficient  in  the  faculties  of  seeing  and  hearing,  and 
whom  therefore  they  allow  to  witness  such  venal  fail- 


CHE  REFUSAL.  J  3 

ings  as  they  would  shudder  to  entrust  to  their  equals. 
However  magnanimous  this  conduct  may  appear,  I 
must  maintain  that  it  is  imprudent;  and  I  would  cau- 
tion the  beautiful  Lady  Tremor  not  to  suffer  her  wait- 
ing-maid to  carry  the  Colonel's  billets-doux,  lest  by 
some  unlucky  mistake  they  should  slide  into  the  hand 
of  her  Lord.  This  I  know,  Mrs.  Prudentia  received 
intelligence  of  the  Duchess  of  P.'s  assignation  with 
Lord  X.  Y.  from  the  hackney  chairman  who  carried 
her  from,  the  Argvle  rooms,  and  Mr.  Lurcher's  butler 
sent  a  letter  to  Banbury,  certifying  the  name  of  the 
pawnbroker  where  the  family  plate  was  deposited,  two 
davs  before  the  Morning  Post  announced  what  is  term- 
ed his  bigwig  dinner  to  the  ministry.  I  own  it  is  a 
shameful  infraction  of  aristocratical  privileges,  that 
confidential  servants  are  not  prohibited  from  making 
observations  and  drawing  conclusions  ;  but  as  these 
things  will  happen  in  the  best  regulated  families,  I  can 
only  advise  masters  and  mistresses  not  to  do  anything 
which  they  are  ashamed  to  have  spoken  of,  and  to 
keep  out  of  such  company  as  they  do  not  choose  to  be 
known  to  frequent.  Such  a  restriction  on  our  appe- 
tites and  tempers,  though  experience  proves  it  to  be 
possible  in  public,  must,  I  confess,  be  very  difficult  in 
private,  aud  tend  so  much  to  substitute  the  austere  sub- 
stantial virtue,  sincerity,  for  the  easy  and  agreeable 
one  plausibility,  that  I  cannot  expect  my  advice  should 
be  adopted.  Besides,  I  admit  that  a  prime  source  of 
private  emolument  and  public  amusement  would  thus 
be  cut  off' j  for  how  could  private  history  be  divulged 
if  valets,  Abigails,  and  every  species  of  mercenary 
dependants  and  retainers  in  great  families,  had  nothing 
outre  to  communicate  ?  What  a  want  of  polish  should 
we  soon  discover  in  the  humbler  classes  of  life  ?  Miss 
Brigetina  Trollop,  at  the  green  grocer's,  would  never 
know  that  Misses  of  quality  laugh  and  stare  to  get 
lovers,  nor  could  Farmer  Breakclod's  young  Hopeful 
be  aware  that  when  he  was  stubborn  and  prophane  he 
shewed  the  spirit  of  a  gentleman.  Perquisites,  too, 
would  be  cut  off,  with  the  long  et  caetera  of  secret  ser- 


14  THE  REFUSAL. 

vice  and  hush  money ;  and  people  who  see  a  vast  deal 
of  genteel  life  would  be  compelled  to  live  on  their 
wages,  which  are  seldom  more  than  double  the  amount 
that  supports  a  Welch  clergyman.  Indeed,  so  many 
inconveniences  attend  my  projects  that,  like  other 
schemes  of  reform,  I  must  lay  them  on  the  shelf  till 
better  times. 

But  I  have  wandered  from  the  subject  for  which  I 
assumed  my  pen,  and  must  now  hasten  to  discharge 
my  duty  by  giving  some  account  of  the  life  and  opini- 
ons of  the  ever  to  be  lamented  Mrs.  Prudentia.  Of 
the  early  part  of  her  history  I  can  say  but  little :  pro- 
bably she  had  some  cogent  reasons  for  the  inviolable 
taciturnity  she  preserved  on  that  head.  Nor  did  she 
ever  entertain  us  with  family  anecdotes,  which  led  ma- 
ny to  suppose  Homespun  was  only  an  assumed  name  ; 
especially  as  she  was  never  visited  by  any  whom  she 
owned  as  relations.  She  had  reached  fifty  when  she 
settled  at  Danbury,  where  she  avowed  her  determined 
predilection  for  the  single  state  by  taking  her  degree  as 
Mrs.  and  adopting  a  large  calash,  black  cardinal,  and 
walkingstick,  which,  her  majestic  size  being  consider- 
ed, gave  her  rather  a  formidable  appearance.  Doubt- 
less those  superior  attractions,  added  to  the  prevailing 
taste  for  antiquities,  occasioned  many  painful  conflicts 
between  the  solicitations  of  her  lovers  and  her  deter- 
mination in  favour  of  her  celibacy  ;  but  she  was  too 
delicate  to  talk  of  the  offers  she  received  :  and  though 
(urged  by  the  tenderest  friendship)  I  once  questioned 
Betty  on  the  subject  of  her  lady's  love-letters,  the 
faithful  creature  affected  ignorance.  I  cannot  but  recom- 
mend this  conduct  to  all  ladies  of  Mrs.  Prudentia's 
standing ;  for  though  I  know  (observe  I  do  not  positively 
say  by  experience)  that  one  may  make  conquests  when 
passed  the  grand  climacteric,  it  is  humane  to  conceal 
the  agonies,  and  hide  the  mortifications  of  our  rejected 
lovers :  besides,  girls  are  sometimes  so  rude  as  to 
laugh  "  when  toothless  beauty  talks  of  tearing  hearts." 

Our  intimacy  began  about  this  period,  one  warm 
day  when  we  were  walking  on  the  south  side  of  Mr. 


THE  REFUSAL.  15 

Alsop's  shrubberv.  I  was  many  years  Mrs.  Pruden- 
tials junior,  and  for  face  and  nymph-like  figure — but 
I  will  draw  no  comparisons,  my  friend  had  the  beau- 
ties of  the  mind.  A  rheumatic  attack  had  given  a 
temporary  debility  to  my  appearance,  of  which  the 
good  lady  took  advantage,  and  beginning  with  an  ob- 
liqne  sarcasm  on  my  pink  bonnet  and  gauze  theresa, 
somehow  in  addressing  me  imperceptibly  glided  from 
Miss  Nelly  to  Mrs.  Eleanor.  I  felt  a  little  piqued, 
but  an  invitation  to  attack  Captain  Target  at  Tradrille 
that  afternoon  at  her  lodgings  restored  my  native  sua- 
vity ;  and  as  he  joined  in  laughing  at  the  infantine  airs 
and  rainbow  dresses  of  some  aged  girls  of  our  ac- 
quaintance, and  swore  he  would  never  marry  a  woman 
younger  than  himself,  I  discarded  pink  and  gauze,  and 
became  Mrs.  Eleanor  twenty  years  before  the  accustom- 
ed period  ;  but  one  had  better  err  on  the  side  of  over- 
decorum. 

From  this  time  my  intimacy  with  Mrs.  Prudentia 
was  what  I  have  above  described,  and  I  can  bear  the 
fullest  testimony  to  the  unblemished  purity  of  her  mo- 
rals and  manners.  No  peeping  through  the  sticks  of 
her  fan  at  officers,  no  private  consultations  with  spruce 
barristers  and  young  physicians,  no  running  after  hand- 
some preachers  under  pretence  that  their  discourses 
were  more  edifying,  no  tete-a-tetes  with  itinerant  lite- 
rati, no  conversations  with  scientific  lecturers  ;  nothing 
dubious  or  coquetish  appeared  in  her  manners,  but  all 
was  discreet,  grave,  and  irreproachable,  worthy  the 
adoption  of  all  the  pert  forward  girls,  who  in  their 
zeal  to  catch  hearts  forget  that  the  hook  should  never 
be  visible. 

But  though,  like  "  the  fair  vestal  throned  in  the 
west,"  Mrs.  Prudentia  "  passed  on  in  maiden  medita- 
tion, fancy  free,"  other  parts  of  her  behaviour  did  a 
little  attract  the  nibbling  malice  of  puny  rivals.  She 
certainly  was  charged  with  being  an  egotist,  and  too 
apt  to  interfere  with  her  neighbours'  concerns.  It  is 
the  duty  of  friendship  to  refute  calumny,  and  we  all 

I  know  that  as  propriety  depends  upon  circumstances, 

// 


16  THE  REFUSAL. 

so  motives  justify  actions.  What  was  right  in  Fabius, 
who  had  a  country  to  defend,  would  have  been  wrong 
in  Alexander,  who  left  his  to  subdue  an  empire  ;  and 
if  Mrs.  Tinto  had  no  other  view  in  visiting  Lord 
Claude  than  to  look  at  Titian's  pictures,  pray  had  her 
husband  any  right  to  turn  Othello  on  the  occasion  ? 
My  friend  certainly  was  a  little  apt  to  say  u  /  do 
this,"  "  This  is  mij  opinion,"  and  somehow  or  other, 
however  the  conversation  began,  it  generally  ended 
in  the  superiority  of  her  own  productions,  proceeding 
from  the  piteous  tale  of  Gerald ine  to  her  inimitable 
gingerbread.  But  then  she  knew  nobody  was' so  well 
worth  talking  of  as  herself,  and  happy  would  it  be  for 
society  if  every  egotist  were  a  Prudentia  Homespun. 
Nor  did  her  zeal  to  regulate  the  world  proceed  from 
censoriousness  or  impertinence.  Her  own  faults  gave 
her  very  little  trouble,  indeed  I  never  could  perceive 
that  she  knew  she  had  any.  Her  mind  was  very  ac- 
tive, and  she  was  exempt  from  all  family  cares.  Of 
her  patriotism  I  need  not  produce  a  stronger  instance 
than  that  it  prompted  her  to  endure  a  thousand  rebuffs, 
and  to  awaken  a  thousand  enmities,  rather  than  she 
would  abandon  her  resolution  of  never  suffering  her 
acquaintance  to  commit  errors  without  being  told  of 
them.  Let  not  man  tenaciously  refuse  the  civic  wreath 
to  the  exertions  of  our  sisterhood  in  this  department. 
True,  we  cannot  fight  our  countries'  battles  with  the 
hero,  nor  with  the  disinterested  statesman  and  daunt- 
less patriot  sacrifice  health,  peace,  and  reputation  to 
legislative  duties  and  political  conflicts;  but  do  we  not 
defy  rheumatisms  and  cramps,  palsies  and  asthmas,  by 
sallying  forth  in  all  sorts  of  weather  to  collect,  or  im- 
part, intelligence,  to  inform  the  ignorant  what  their 
neighbours  say  of  their  conduct,  and  to  lower  sell 
gratulation  by  oblique  sneers  and  emphatical  inuendos. 
Neither  can  the  great  public  characters  I  have  pre- 
sumed to  allude  to,  triumph  over  our  equally  painlul 
and  indefatigable  labours,  on  the  pretence  that  they  are 
unsuccessful ;  for  I  fancy  these  gentlemen,  like  our- 
selves, are  often  condemned  to  roll  a  stone  up  labour- 


THE  REFUSAL.  1J- 

in-vain  hill,  with  a  noted  poetical  projector,  and  only 
find  their  pains  rewarded  by  its  tumbling  down  upon 
them.  People  have  now  acquired  an  inveterate  habit 
of  believing  themselves  to  be  the  best  judges  of  their 
own  affairs  ;  and  though  we  call  upon  them  in  the 
name  of  wisdom,  and  conjure  them  to  listen  to  our  ad- 
monitions, they  doubt  whether  we  bring  proper  cre- 
dentials from  the  goddess,  except  when  we  happen  to 
think  exactly  as  they  do.  Even  the  exalted  character 
of  Mrs.  Prudentia  could  not  guard  her  entirely  from 
these  accusations  ;  and  I  must  ever  deplore  the  effect 

•of  her  regulating  spirit,  as  it  prematurely  deprived  the 
world  of  its  invaluable  instructor,  and  one  of  the  most 
enchanting  of  companions,  and  faultless  of  friends.' 
Poor  soul !  she  never  recovered  from  the  illness  occa- 
sioned by  her  plunging  through  the  snow  to  tell  Betsy 
Boldface,  that  Mr.  Stanza  had  made  a  madrigal  on  ' 
her  purple  elbows.  A  confirmed  cough  was  the  conse- 
quence, and  her  knell  was  rung  out  the  same  day 
that  a  bridal  peal  announced,  that  Miss   Boldface  had 

i  relieved  herself  from  the  terrors  of  Mr.  Stanza's  pas- 

i  quinades  by  making  him  lord  of  her  person  and  for- 
tune. This  the  Danbury  wits  call  elbowing  himself 
into  easy  circumstances  ;  while  the  happy  pair  protest 
that  they  owe  their  present  felicity  to  Mrs.  Prudentia's 
kind  interference,  and  Mrs.  Stanza  came  to  church 
more  a  la  mode  de  Venus  than  ever  :  but  the  honey- 
moon is  not  yet  over. 

Another  peculiarity  in  my  friend's  character  was 
her  dislike  of  contradiction,  which  was  so  rooted  that 
it  required  some  degree  of  courage  to  dissent  from 
any  of  her  opinions.  In  tl  is,  as  in  all  her  singulari- 
ties, I  am  convinced  that  she  only  looked  to  the  im- 
provement of  the  world.  What  virtue  is  so  estimable 
as  humility,  what  companionable  qualities  are  more 
attractive  than  acquiescence  and  patience  ?  Can  any 
one  hope  to  rise  in  the  world  without  these  requisites? 
Could  my  friend  do  a  greater  kindness  to  her  associ- 
ates than  daily  to  exercise  them  in  those  habits  which 

|  would  fit  them  for  the  tables  of  bashaws  of  rank  and 

// 


18  THE  REFUSAL. 

Xantippes  of  fashion,  rich  spinster  aunts,  and  testy 
bachelor  uncles  ?  Generously  lamenting  that  the  ge- 
nerality of  our  Danbury  beauties  were  incapacitated 
from  gaining  a  livelihood  by  using  their  hands,  she 
wished  to  qualify  them  for  that  life  of  dependence  to 
which  they  seemed  partial,  by  teaching  them  to  hold 
their  tongues.  I  am  sorry  to  add,  that  in  this  instance 
also  her  excellent  intentions  were  counteracted  by  in- 
gratitude. I  have  seen  the  chits  laugh  when  she  has 
taken  the  trouble  to  harangue  for  hours  on  the  advan- 
tages of  silence,  and  I  overheard  a  pert  girl  inquire  of 
another  tittering  flirt,  at  what  age  Mrs.  Prudentia  al- 
lowed them  to  practise  talking,  preparatory  to  the  very 
hard  service  which  would  be  required  of  them  when 
they  must,  according  to  that  eloquent  line, 

"  Chatter  chatter  chatter  chatter  still  ?" 

I  know  so  little  of  literati  in  general,  that  I  am 
doubtful  whether  Mrs.  Prudentia's  morning  lounges 
and  evening  conversations  were  unique  in  their  ar- 
rangements ?  She  met  us  at  the  door  of  her  drawing 
room,  placed  us  according  to  the  strictest  rules  of  eti- 
quette, and  if  she  had  no  new  work  to  be  admired,  or 
opinion  to  maintain,  she  proceeded  to  form  a  jury 'on 
lives  and  characters,  and  tossing  the  last  f mix  pas  that 
had  happened  in  the  neighbourhood  among  us,  like  her 
Grace  of  Stingwell  (so  forcibly  delineated  in  the  pre- 
sent work  by  her  own  inimitable  pen)*  "  Cried  ha- 
vock  and  let  slip  the  dogs  of  war."  It  was  only  when 
we  were  at  fault,  or  gone  off  on  a  wrong  scent,  that 
she  would  attempt  to  set  us  right,  by  a  smile  or  a 
groan  as  sententious  as  the  "  fudge"  of  Mr.  Burchell. 
Our  debates  a  little  differed  from  those  in  a  certain 
great   assembly,  for  though  we  were  also  permitted 

*  Note  by  the  printer.  "  This  is  a  mistake  of  the  Editor's.  The 
Duchess  of  Stingwell  is  bot  slightly  mentioned  in  this  work,  but 

she  will  appear  at  full  length  in  '  The  world  of  Fashion  Unmask- 
ed/ which  Mrs.  Eleanor  is  now  editing,  and  of  which  it  is  proposed 
to  print  J20,000  copies. 


THE  REFUSAL.  19 

to  be  vituperative,  disgressive,  elaborate,  rhodomon- 
tade,  and  ironical,  in  fine,  to  say  whatever  popped  into 
our  heads,  whether  irrelative  or  appropriate,  no  one 
was  compelled  to  wait  for  general  silence,  or  even  for 
that  of  the  person  they  addressed ;  and  it  was  no  un- 
usual thing  to  see  two  declaimers,  equally  loud,  talking 
to,  or  rather  at,  each  other.  But  when  the  tumult  of 
"  Yes,  madam,  this  is  my  opinion  ;"  "  Nothing  ever 
was  so  shocking,  sir ;"  "  O  moat  infamous  !  there  can 
be  no  doubt;"  "Only  hear  what  can  be  said  on  the 
other  side  :"  "  'Tis  all  to  no  purpose  arguing;"  "  I  ne- 
ver was  so  sure  of  any  thing  in  all  my  life,"  &c.  Sec. 
resounding  from  twenty  different  voices,  in  different 
keys,  conveyed  to  our  delighted  minds  the  deafening 
luxury  of  colloquial  enjoyment.  Suddenly  a  noise  re- 
sembling the  Euxine  sea  in  full  uproar  changed  to  a  re- 
pose, tranquil  as  the  unebbing  waves  of  the  Caspian, 
when  our  revered  hostess,  roused  from  her  apparent 
reverie,  politely  told  us  we  were  all  mistaken. 

On  other  occasions,  when  we  were  invited  to  be 
hearers,  our  tongues  had  no  exercise,  except  to  mur- 
mur a  few  acquiescent  syllables  in  admiration  of  the 
dictums  which  were  uttered  by  learning,  science,  taste, 
knowledge,  genius,  virtue,  embodied  in  a  Prudentia's 
form.  This  exquisite  regale  lasted  till  our  servants  ar- 
rived with  umbrellas  and  pattens,  when,  with  ten 
thousand  thanks  for  the  pleasure  and  honour  we  had 
enjoyed,  we  adjourned  to  our  own  fire-sides.  True, 
we  conversed  a  little  in  our  way  home.  Blunt  charac- 
ters yawned  out  an  expression  of  weariness,  the  satiri- 
cal turned  Mrs.  Prudentia  and  her  lounge  into  ridi- 
cule, and  people  of  foresight  asked  if  she  had  a  large 
fortune  at  her  own  disposal:  Yet  all  waited  impatiently 
for  the  next  invitation,  for  my  friend's  parties  were  the 
most  genteel  in  Danbury,  and  there  was  no  enduring 
being  left  out,  as  none  but  people  of  ton  and  literati 
were  invited. 

When  the  enjoyments  of  these  Attic  nights  were  en- 
hanced, by  Mrs.  Prudentia's  condescending  to  read 
some  of  her  manuscripts,  we  were  raised  to  the  zenith 

vol.  i.  c 


20  THE  REFUSAL. 

of  felicity.  Never  could  any  author  more  truly  assure 
the  world  that  she  published  at  the  request  of  her 
friends  than  this  lady,  for  we  were  not  only  unanimous 
in  our  approbation,  but  unanimous  in  begging  her  to 
publish  her  works  as  soon  as  she  had  written  them,  and 
in  predicting  that  the  success  of  the  new  bantling 
would  add  still  greater  honours  to  her  laurelled  brow. 
The  suavity  of  our  hostess  increased  in  proportion  to 
the  ingenuity  and  plausibility  of  our  oracular  decisions. 
Betty  generally  received  another  summons,  and  we 
were  intreated  to  take  a  second  macaroon,  and  another 
bumper  of  Clary  wine.  For  it  is  the  same  with  the 
offspring  of  wit  as  with  our  living  babies,  the  youngest 
brat  is  always  the  darling. 

Conformably,  I  suppose,  to  ancient  custom,  these 
rites  concluded  with  a  sacrifice.  Sometimes  a  rival 
moralist,  gagged  and  bound,  was  offered  up  on  the 
shrine  of  eulogy:  but  Mrs.. Prudentia  had  so  much  of 
the  esprit  du  corps  in  her  disposition,  that  she  preferred 
hunting  down  that  criminal  which  feeds  on  the  vitals  of 
authors,  andthen  gibbets  their  morbid  carcases  in  de- 
rision, "I  mean  a  critic,  to  which  species  my- friend  al- 
ways evinced  an  antipathy  blended  with  fear  and  ha- 
tred ;  and,  to  the  eternal  honour  of  Danbury,  always 
declared  that  our  opinion  of  her  compositions  was 
more  discriminative,  and  our  encomiums  more  appro- 
priate, than  the  most  elaborate  critiques  of  the  most 
acute  reviewer.  She  was  very  partial  to  what  she 
called  arraigning  these  gentlemen  in  their  own  court; 
for  she  denied  them  the  benefit  of  counsel,  and  of 
pleading  their  own  cause,  acted  herself  as  jury,  judge, 
•and  executioner,  and  then,  like  royalty,  gave  weight  to 
her  sentence  by  publishing  it  in  the  plural  number.  In 
imitation  of  their  own  customs,  (so  she  assured  us) 
she  only  read  such  parts  of  their  strictures  as  would 
serve  for  the  basis  of  a  charge  of  high  crimes  and 
misdemeanours,  and  by  omitting  some  passages,  and 
heightening  others,  she  pronounced  them'  guilty  of 
treason,  sacrilege,  envy,  stupidity,  or  any  other  crime, 
or  absurdity,  she  happened  to  fix  upon:  she  then  de- 


THE  REFUSAL.  21 

livered  them  to  run  the  gauntlet  through  her  delighted 
auditory,  being  persuaded  that  they  would  find  the  sen- 
sation of  being  laughed  at  very  amusing,  since  they 
are  generally  so  assiduous  to  procure  that  gratification 
for  others. 

But  I  am  aware  this  uninterrupted  style  of  panegy- 
ric will  subject  me  to  the  censure  which  is  so  common- 
ly, vet  surely  unjustly,  attributed  to  editors  and  bio- 
graphers, who,  I  conceive,  (whatever  may  be  their  in- 
tention) generally  contrive  to  make  their  respective 
authors  appear  as  mere  mortals  while  they  hold  them 
up  as  demi  gods.  To  avert  all  hazard  of  this  accu- 
sation, I  will  bring  to  light  two  circumstances  which 
impeded  the  celebrity,  and  abridged  the  quantity,  of 
Mrs.  Prudentia's  writings.  She  was  a  disciple  of  the 
old  aristocratic  school,  and  she  had  a  higher  opinion  of 
public  taste  than  of  public  candour.  At  least,  she 
thought  that  the  latter  was  drawn  on  so  much  oftener 
than  die  former,  that  there  was  danger  of  the  bank  be- 
ing exhausted.  As  the  latter  notion  prevented  her 
from  seizing  those  glorious  golden  opportunities,  which 
thousands  have  found  so  precious,  by  rapidly  pouring 
forth  their  impromptus  on  those  all-engrossing  topics 
which  sink  into  oblivion  in  eight-and-forty  hours,  so 
the  former  opinion  absolutely  precluded  her  from  gi- 
ving that  high  finish  to  her  portraits  of  people  of 
quality  which  is  now  necessary  to  complete  the  like- 
ness. 

I  am  concerned  to  acknowledge,  that  she  knew  so 
little  of  high  life  from  personal  observation,  and  was 
so  wretchedly  opinionated,  that  she  never  would  believe 
worse  of  the  great  than  that  they  fell  into  the  offences 
incident  to  prosperity,  and  for  want  of  proper  self- 
command  were  sometimes  incorrect  in  their  morals; 
in  short,  that  lords  and  ladies  were  simplv  men  and 
women.  She  even  insisted,  that  the  man  of  rank 
might  be  distinguished  from  the  porter,  even  when 
they  both  wore  Satan's  livery.  In  vain  was  she  told, 
that  the  love  of  novelty  now  predominaets  so  much 
that  the  vices  of  gentlemen  went  out  with  toupies  and 


22  THE  REFUSAL. 

laced  waistcoats,  and  that  the  debauchees  and  bons-vi- 
vans  of  the  age  did  not  copy  from  Petronius,  Horace, 
or  Lucullus,  but,  with  the  profligacy,  adopted  the 
mind  and  manners  of  pugilists  and  coachmen;  while 
demireps  and  beaux-esprits,  not  content  with  being  li- 
centious, determined  also  to  be  audacious,  and  thought 
the  deeds  of  the  courtezan  not  sufficiently  disgraceful 
unless,  like  them,  they  bound  on  impudence  as  a  front- 
let. No  arguments  would  convince  my  friend  that 
such  was  the  general  cast  of  manners.  She  was  firmly 
convinced,  that  a  plot  existed  to  degrade  eminence  and 
annihilate  rank,  but  she  never  would  believe  that  the  in- 
tended victims  were  active  agents  in  the  conspiracy,  bu- 
sily employed  in  expediting  their  own  destruction,  by 
subverting  those  buttresses  of  respect  and  veneration 
which  prevented  popular  opinion  from  undermining 
the  ancient  fabric  of  baronial  greatness.  The  times, 
she  said,  had  disposed  her  to  credit  wondefs,  but  not 
impossibilities,  and  when  the  newspapers  were  pro- 
duced as  evidences  of  the  truth  of  the  charge,  she 
wonld  either  wish  the  laws  against  slander  were  rigid- 
ly infbrced,  or  gravely  assert,  some  "night  tripping 
fairy,"  or  rather  wet  nurse,  "  had  exchanged  the  chil- 
dren as  they  lay,"  and  dropped  the  pedlar's,  or  the  gip- 
sies', offspring  in  the  cradle  of  the  Plantagenets. 

These  prejudices,  added  to  her  having  some  scru- 
ples respecting  the  lawfulness  of  blasphemy,  and  the 
decency  of  double  entendres  (even  though  not  uttered 
by  the  author  in  propria  persona,  but  put  into  the 
mouths  of  some  character  to  shew  wit,  courage,  and 
knowledge  of  the  world)  made  many  think  my  friend's 
writings  cold,  bigoted,  and  ill-timed.  From  these 
disadvantages  her  posthumous  works  will  be  exoner- 
ated ;  for  as  I  hold  it  to  be  the  prime  business  of  a 
writer  to  secure  readers,  I  will  never  impede  the  suc- 
cess of  my  labours  by  fastidiousness  about  ornaments, 
over  tenacity  of  principles,  or  zeal  to  defend  people 
who  shew  they  care  not  what  the  world  says  of  them., 
"  Sail  with  the  tide,"  shall  be  my  motto  ;  and  though 
the  literary  remains  of  my  late  friend  are  to  form  the 


THE  REFUSAL.  23 

vessel  in  which  I  embark  my  fame,  I  assure  the  world 
that  I  am  quite  equal  to  my  editorial  province  of  emen- 
dation, and,  perhaps,  may  occasionally  plead  authority 
if  I  sometimes  do  a  little  more  than  correct  and  im- 
prove.    At  least,  I  may  insert  what  I  think  Mrs.  Pru- 
dentia  would  have  said  had  she  been  better  informed, 
or  had  she   lived  to   the  present  period.     New   gilt, 
varnished,  and  copper-bottomed,  under  the  care  of  an 
expert  pilot,  the  old  ship  Prudentia  Homespun  shall 
tack  and  veer  with  any  light  sloop  in  the  service,  and, 
to  drop  the  metaphor,  the  papers  in  my  possession  are 
so   voluminous,  that,  with  the  help  of  a  little  trans- 
position of  dates,    facts,    and  names,  I  think  I  may 
promise  the  public  to  have  a  novel,  satire,  elegy,  Epi- 
thalamium,  or  ode,  ready  to  issue  from  the  press  with 
the  first  batch  on  any  great  event  which  engrosses  the 
public,  be  it  a  naval  victory,  a  barouche  race,  or  the 
diamond  cross  of  a  prostitute  of  fashion.     Whatever 
possesses  celebrity  is  fair  game  to  an  industrious  edi- 
tor, and   to  avoid   all   that    punctilio  and  pertinacity 
which  prevented  my  friend  from  turning  her  talents  to 
the  best  account,  I  hereby  give  notice,  that  as  soon  as 
the  unsold   copies  of  this   novel   are    consigned  to  the 
trunk-maker,  I  shall  commence  the  new  series  of  Mrs. 
Prudentia's   lucubrations,  in  which  care  will  be  taken 
to  speak  softly  of  every  vice  in  fashion,  and  to  foment 
all  popular  discontents.     Dashing  girls  shall  no  longer 
have  their  spirits  curbed  by  frigid  councils,  nor  ancient 
ladies  be  thrown  into  vapours   by  prosings  about  mor- 
tality.    The  novels   I  shall  hereafter    publish  iu   my 
friend's  name  shall  either  be  lullabies  or  stimuli,  suit- 
ed to  the  hurricane  or  vacuum  of  fashionable  life  ;  and 
I  invite  the  world  to  read  them,  and  see  how  neatly  I 
can  dearn   tattered  reputations    when  worth  mending, 
or   when   irreparable  give  a  jaunty  enchanting  air  to 
mere  rags.     I  shall  also  take  care   to  disparage  such 
high  desert  and  spotless  purity  as  are  offensive  to  other 
people.     I  will  prove  my  liberality  by  making  my  he- 
roine commit   a  faux  pas,  and  mj    knowledge  of  the 
world  by  obliging  my  hero  to  love  her  the  better  for 
vol.  i.  c  2 


04  THE  REFUSAL. 

it.  In  short,  whoever  wish  to  have  their  vices  exten- 
uated, their  humours  flattered,  their  rivals  ridiculed, 
and  the  whole  arcana  of  secret  intelligence  and  court 
intrigue  laid  open  to  their  inspection,  will  be  my  pur- 
chasers. 

In  the  present  work  there  are  very  few  touches  of 
my  pen.  But  as  I  am  told  it  will  sell  better  if  I  add 
a  key,  explaining  who  are  meant  by  the  principal  cha- 
racters, I  will  not  omit  so  important  a  part  of  an  edi- 
tor's duty.  .  Though  my  friend  has  owned  she  did 
think  of  some  certain  people,  she  never  would  satisfy 
my  eager  inquiries  on  the  subject.  The  most  minute 
observation  has,  however,  enabled  me  to  develope  the 
mystery,  though  regard  for  my  own  safety  compels 
me  to  deal  in  initials.  Lady  Avondel  then  is  no  other 
than  the  Countess  of  X,  who  was  a  great  fortune,  lived 
with  her  uncle,  and  went  by  the  name  of  good  little 
Emily.  A  marriage  and  accouchment  actually  hap- 
pened in  the  Y p  family,  and  I  saw  the  person 

she  describes  as  Lord  Avondel,  covered  with  the  in- 
signia of  different  orders.  I  hope  I  shall  not  be  threat- 
ened with  a  prosecution  if  I  whisper,  that  it  was  the 

celebrated   Sir  K — v — f  Q.- m,  who  died,  nobody 

knows  how,  in  a  duel  about  nobody  knows  what.  Sir 
Walter  Mandeville  is  the  well  known  German  general 

Baron  Shd wgldh ;  he  wears  a   Kevenhuller  hat, 

is  gouty  and  asthmatical.  It  would  be  dangerous 
even  to_  hint  who  was  meant  for  Paulina,  and  every 
bodv  knows  Lady  Mackintosh.  The  character  of  Se- 
Jina  puzzled  me,  till  at  last  I  discovered,  that  it  was 
intended  as  a  delicate  tribute  of  friendship,  being  no 
other  than  my  own.  My  beauty  certainly  is  faded, 
and  the  world  has  not  done  justice  to  my  merit.  I 
fear  I  shall  be  satirized  if  I  say  any  more  on  this  subject. 
I  now  commend  this  compendium  of  secret  history 
to  the  world  with  all  its  imperfections,  and  I  assure 
the  public,  that  unless  some  people  whom  I  will  not 
name,  make  it  worth  my  while  to  be  silent,  I  shall 
next  time  be  less  careful  about  personality.  I  remain 
the  most  devoted  servant  of  the  public, 

ELEANOR  SINGLETON 


[  25   ] 


INTRODUCTION  BY  MRS.  PRUDENTIA. 


A  FRAGMENT. 


There,  at  one  passage  oft  you  might  survey, 

A  lie  and  truth  contending  for  the  way ; 

And  long  'twas  doubtful,  both  so  closely  pent, 

Which  first  should  issue  through  the  narrow  vent. 

At  last  agreed,  together  out  they  fly 

Inseparable  now,  the  truth  and  lie. 

Pope. 


-Mr.  Stanza,  in  his  reply  to  the  doctor, 


admitted,  that  the  arguments  of  his  reverend  oppo- 
nent would  be  unanswerable,  if  history  really  posses- 
sed all  the  advantages  to  which  it  pretends  ;  M  for  cer- 
tainlv,  my  dear  Sir,"  said  he,  "  I  am  not  such  a 
Quixote  in  polemics  as  to  dispute  the  self-evident  tru- 
ism, that  truth  is  preferable  to  falsehood.  I  only 
maintain,  that  those  elaborate  quartos  which  affect  to 
contain  the  lives  of  eminent  men,  or  the  fortunes  of 
empires,  have  too  much  of  fable,  conjecture,  and 
misrepresentation  in  them  to  be  justly  characterized 
by  so  abstract  and  simple  a  term  as  truth.  And  I 
also  assert,  that  we  shall  transgress  the  laws  of  can- 
dour if  we  denominate  a  well-digested  fiction,  which 
copies  human  actions  and  passions  with  force  and  cor- 
rectness, by  the  gross  appellation  of  falsehood.  In 
perusing  the  pages  of  Fielding,  Richardson,  and  Gold- 
smith, we  always  feel  in  the  company  of  human  be- 
ings ;  nay,  sometimes  among  our  own  acquaintance. 
We  anticipate  their  sentiments,  we  know  what  they 
will  do,  and  though  occasionally  events  may  be  brought 
about  more  malapropos,  or  more  adroitly,  than  we 
have  been  accustomed  to  see  in  real  life,  we  rather 
suspect  our  knowledge  of  the  world  is  too  limited  to 


26  THE  REFUSAL. 

supply  an  exact  parallel  of  accidents,  than  doubt  the 
author's  veracity  from  the  improbabilities  in  his  story  : 
I  mean  while  the  strong  enchantment  of  genius  fasci- 
nates our  judgment,  by  introducing  the  aspect  of  re- 
ality. But,  Sir,  does  this  effect  take  place  when  we 
turn  over  the  works  of  those  historians  and  biographers 
who  set  human  nature  upon  stilts,  or  degrade  it  to  the 
standard  of  a  pigmy,  commanding  us  to  adore  absolute 
perfection,  or  to  execrate  the  bestial  compendium  of 
all  imaginable  depravity  ?  or  of  those,  who,  rather 
aiming  to  be  ingenious  than  veracious,  shew  us  that 
they  care  not  what  they  establish,  so  they  do  but  over- 
throw preconceived  opinions?  The  difficulty  of  dis- 
covering what  is  really  matter  of  fact  in  any  event 
which  happens  in  our  own  immediate  neighbourhood, 
is  obvious.  Distance  of  place  increases  the  danger  of 
.'  misrepresentation,  and  distance  of  time  still  more. — 
Yet,  after  the  lapse  of  ages,  a  literary  adventurer  shall 
step  forth,  calling  himself  an  historian,  and  armed 
with  rhetoric  instead  of  records,  give  a  new  turn  to 
facts,  and  a  new  colouring  to  characters,  which  shall 
absolutely  invalidate  the  authenticity  of  contemporary 
testimony.  I  will  not  call  Le  Sage  or  Cervantes  no- 
velists, but  such  authors  as1' — 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  the  doctor,  breaking  silence 
with  unwonted  eagerness,  "  be  careful,  no  names." 

u  I  admire  your  caution"  answered  Stanza,  "  but 
there  is  no  need  of  the  personal  appellative  ;  to  name 
the  qualities  which  they  affect  is  quite  as  discrimina- 
tive. When  one  acknowledged  bias  to  any  particular 
party,  or  system,  is  considered  as  laudable  in  an  his- 
torian, you,  mv  good  friend,  are  I  know  too  candid 
to  look  into  his  labours  with  an  expectation  of  finding 
them  to  be  the  well  in  which  you  may  discover  truth. 
The  pomp  of  rhetoric,  I  am  sure,  will  not  convince 
you  that  the  writer  is  impartial,  when  you  p-rceive 
him  glossing  events  to  accommodate  them  to  the  pre- 
dominent  colour  of  his  work,  and  omitting  those  facts 
which  tend  to  overthrow  his  darling  tenet,  and  are  too 
stubborn  to  be  moulded  into  a  contrary  form.     I  own 


THE,  REFUSAL.  27 

t  clt-tcst  an  argument  whose  tendency  is  to  defame  the 
memory  of  a  revered  character ;  and  I  have  equal  ob- 
jections to  the  exaltation  of  a  villain,  when  dubious 
tradition,  and  strained  evidence,  are  made  the  sup- 
porters of  his  greatness.  Nay,  I  go  so  far  as  to  think, 
that  our  veneration  for  virtue,  and  abhorrence  of  vice, 
are  weakened  by  having  our  opinions  of  past  genera- 
tions so  frequently  unsettled  ;  and  I  am  inclined  to 
adopt  the  opinion  of  the  lively  traveller,  who  pro- 
nounced history  the  most  bewildering,  the  dullest, 
gravest,  and  most  unlikely  of  all  fictions.  If  Livy  be 
judged  to  outrage  probability,  no  less  in  his  long  ha- 
rangues than  in  his  prodigies,  shall  they  pass  for  t-.iith- 
ful  narrators  who,  without  any  authentic  document  to 
support  their  assertions,  invent  motives  which  very 
likely  never  entered  into  the  minds  of  the  personages 
to  whom  they  ascribe  them,  or  who,  on  a  £a\v  detached 
circumstances,  founded  on  loose  testimony,  erect  a 
magnificent  system  of  ideal  speculations  :"  Mr.  Stan- 
za then  proceeded  to  quote  the  well-known  lines  of 
Pope,  "  Ask  why  from  Britain  Caesar  made  retreat  ;'' 
and  then  finding  himself  unanswered,  continued  his 
Philippic. — 

"  When  an  historian  has  any  apparent  end  in  view, 
whether  of  aggrandisement  or  defamation,  I  always 
degrade  him  to  the  rank  of  a  party  writer,  and  mete 
out  my  commendations  by  the  same  standard  as  I 
apply  to  an  ephemeral  pamphleteer,  or  an  acknowledg- 
ed advocate.  On  the  contrarv,  when  the  florid  page, 
unencumbered  by  references  to  contemporary  authori- 
ties and  established  records,  seems  only  devoted  to  the 
innocent  purpose  of  shewing  the  writer's  ingenuity,  I 
try  the  composition  as  I  would  the  labours  of  a  poet  or 
a  romance  writer  ;  and  determine  its  excellence  or  de- 
merit by  the  quantity  of  wit,  fancy,  and  eloquence,  it 
contains.  To  be  brief,  I  class  what  are  termed  popular 
well-written  histories,  with  works  of  mere  entertain- 
ment, and  I  am  convinced  that  those  who  build  their 
opinions  of  past  times  on  these  inventions,  commit  as 
gross  an  error  as  the  fair  enthusiast  lady  Arabella,  who 


28  THE  REFUSAL. 

formed  her  notions  of  the  court  of  Augustus  from  the 
romance  of  the  empress  Julia."* 

No  doubt  the  learned  doctor  would  have  completely 
refuted  the  assertions  of  the  poet,  whose  love  for  Pe- 
gasus induced  him  to  maintain  that  Clio  and  Calliope 
-were  equally  partial  to  his  hobby,  and  allowed  him  to 
practice  the  same  antics  and  curvets  under  the  manage- 
ment of  each  of  them.  But  his  good  breeding  con- 
vinced him  that  the  company  Avere  rather  over-dosed 
by  Stanza,  and  as  I  (hating  to  see  one  person  engross 
the  whole  conversation,  or  one  subject  consume  an 
evening)  did  not  give  him  an  encouraging  glance,  he 
continued  silent,  taking  care,  by  a  significant  shake  of 
his  head  and  a  quicker  '  evolution  of  his  thumbs,'  to 
intimate,  that  he  held  Stanza's  sentiments  in  the  most 
ineffable  contempt. 

Not  content  with  a  dubious  victory,  the  triumphant 
poet  continued  to  throw  down  the  gage  of  controversy 
with  a  wish  to  provoke  his  sullen  adversary  to  renew 
the  combat.  After  having  proved  that  we  really  knew 
little  or  nothing  of  past  ages,  and  shewn,  from  the  na- 
ture of  things,  that  little  or  nothing  could  be  known, 
he  proceeded  to  question  our  knowledge  of  the  pre- 
sent j  and  the  obituary  of  my  old  friend  Urban 
(whose  labours  always  lie  on  my  tea-table)  served  him 
as  a  text-book.  He  first  read  a  warm  eulogiuin  on 
Sir  Mushroom  Treatvvell,  who,  it  was  affirmed,  died 
universally  regretted  by  a  very  numerous  and  respect- 
able acquaintance. 

"  Drop  the  word  respectable,"  said  the  invidious 
Stanza,  u  and  there  is  some  truth  in  the  panegyric. 
The  old  contractor  kept  a  French  cook,  and  his  wines 
were  almost  genuine.  His  house  was  crowded  with 
needy  sycophants,  who  gave  him  flattery  for  his  meat, 
and  though  they  were  the  sweepings  of  Grub-street, 
he  really  believed  that  he  patronised  wit  and  genius. 
I  went  once  just  to  enjoy  the  singularity  of  seeing 
every  eye  and  every  word  directed  to   the  great  man, 

*  The  Female  Quixote. 


THE  REFUSAL.  29 

whose  table  was  furnished  like  that  of  Apicius,  while 
his  person  and  conversation  exhibited  a  compound  of 
Scarrori  and  Midas.  I  could  not  address  my  remarks 
to  a  fellow  whose  three  ideas  centered  in  being  knavish, 
avaricious,  and  ostentatious :  nor  could  I  listen  to  the 
jests  of  Joe  Miller,  translated  into  the  cockney  idiom. 
He  courted  me,  'tis  true,  for  this  full  blown  buffo  had 
some  discernment.  But  I  assure  you,.  Ladies,  I  was 
not  one  of  the  respectable  acquaintance  who  deplored 
the  loss  of  Sir  Mushroom." 

In  this  satirical  style  did  Stanza  run  over  several 
columns,  proving,  to  our  extreme  astonishment,  that 
although  you  practise  every  vice,  and  inherit  every 
meanness,  wealth,  and  an  affectation  of  liberality,  will 
procure  you  a  passable  reputation  while  living,  and 
on  your  demise  give  you  honourable  mention  among 
the  records  of  Britain's  true  worthies.  He  then  des- 
canted on  the  folly  of  parsimony,  and  the  misfortune 
of  indigence,  the  one  in  neglecting,  and  the  other  in 
not  being  able  to  secure,  that  rich  though  ideal  posses- 
sion, fame,  when  his  unmerciful  prosing  was  interrupt- 
ed by  the  following  simple  paragraph, 

"  On  the  27th  died,  at  the  house  of  her  nephew, 
the  earl  of  Avondel,  the  right  honourable  lady  Selina 
Delamore." 

"  And  is  nothing  said  of  her  ladyship?"  inquired 
the  doctor.  "  At  least,"  said  S:anza,  "  this  abstinence 
of  censure  obliges  us  to  confess,  that  the  age  is  as  cha- 
ritable as  it  is  liberal.,  O  tempora,  o  mores,  that  such  a 
woman  should  be  allowed  to  steal  thus  silently  to  the 
grave  !" 

"  I  presume,"  said  I,  "  Lady  Selina  was  a  very  ex- 
traordinary character ;  I  wonder  I  never  heard  of 
her." 

The  sententious  doctor  turned  up  his  eyes,  and  ad- 
mitted it  was  very  wonderful. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Prudeutia,"  observed  Stanza,  who, 

with   all   his  flippancv  and   self-conceit,  really  is  well 

bred,  "  I  am  sure    your  walls  are  never  contaminated 

'by  the  recital  of  gross  misdemeanours,  unaccountable 

w 


30  THE  REFUSAL 

perjuries,  breaches  of  all  divine  and  human  laws,  of- 
fences that  burst  the  very  bond  of  society.  Should 
any  one  of  your  visitants  attempt  to  entertain  you  with 
an  account  of  such  outrages,  I  am  confident  your  doors 
would  be  thenceforth  barred  against  him,  whom  ,you 
Would  consider  as  a  foul  defamer  of  your  species,  en- 
deavouring to  contract  your  charity  and  impugn  your 
candour." 

"  Unquestionably,"  said  I,  "  the  deeds  of  such  mis- 
creats  as  you  allude  to  are  better  concealed  from  the 
world,  and  I  exceedingly  condemn  those  who  first  pro- 
mulgate them.  But  though  I  abhor  defamation,  when 
a  story  is  public  there  is  no  harm  in  hearing  it.  Did 
you  know  Lady  Selina,  Sir?" 

"  No,  thank  my  happier  stars,"  replied  Stanza 
shrugging  his  shoulders  and  rising  to  take  leave. 

"  Bless  me,"  resumed  I,  '•  is  her  story  then  so  very 
bad  ?  you  might  just  give  one  an  outline,  as  there  are 
no  young  ladies  present?" 

"  It  would  only  divert  a  Sir  Mushroom,"  answered 
Stanza,  "  or  such  people  as  love  to  see  the  world  de- 
graded to  their  own  gross  level.  You,  madam,  need 
no  foil  to  set  off  your  virtues.  Celibacy  in  you  shews 
like  the  icicle  on  Dian's  temple,  and  the  history  of  an 
unhappy  spinster  who — " 

At  this  critical  moment  the  door  opened,  fresh  com- 
pany entered,  and  Stanza  retired  dumb  and  mysterious 
as  an  ancient  oracle.  I  defy  the  most  illiberal  of  my 
acquaintance  to  charge  me  with  an  exhuberant  share  of 
curiosity,  yet,  I  own,  Stanza's  complimentary  inuendo 
made  me  a  little  uneasy,  I  mean  for  the  honour  of  my 
sisterhood. 

Nor  was  the  doctor  more  communicative.  That 
worthy  gentleman  had  acquired  a  reputation  for  pro- 
found learning  and  wisdom,  and  he  maintained  it  by 
reserving  these  hoards  carefully  for  his  private  use. 
He  was  particularly  cautious  not  to  involve  himself  in 
any  difficulty  by  hasty  communications,  and  he  has  been 
known  to  lock  the  door  before  he  imparted  intelligence 
which  was  printed  in  that  day's  gazette.    He  would  not 


THE,  REFUSAL.  31 

tell  you  that  the  duke  of  Monmouth  was  the  illegitimate 
son  of  Charles  the  2d.  without  the  saving  clause  of  "  So 
it  was  reported  ;"  and  I  therefore  considered  it  as  an 
extraordinary  mark  of  confidence,  that,  after  several 
interviews,  and  much  winding  and  sifting,  (at  which  I 
claim  some  share  of  adroitness)  I  induced  him  to  com- 
mit himself  so  far  as  to  say,  that  "  Poor  Lady  Selina 
had  been  much  talked  of,  and  might  be  said  to  have 
two  very  opposite  characters." 

I  shall  not  acquaint  the  world  from  what  source  I 
have  since  derived  such  copious  and  correct  informa- 
tion as  will  enable  me  to  fill  three  volumes  (allowing 
for  proper  margins  and  amplifications)  with  the  cir- 
cumstances connected  with  this  extraordinary  lady.  I 
am  thankful  that  I  am  not  in  the  predicament  of  the 
historians  so  severely  treated  by  Stanza.  The  world 
has  no  doubt  of  my  veracity,  and  they  know  that  when 
I  am  barren  of  materials  I  dare  not  invent.  Nor  will 
I  usher  in  my  story  with  the  pomp  of  supplicatory  in- 
troduction. My  faults  and  my  perfections  are  equally 
known.  All  I  shall  premise  is,  that  having  been  pri- 
vately informed  that  Stanza  is  at  work  upon  the  same 
narrative,  I  have  been  forced  to  hurry  the  publication. 
For  though  I  am  aware  that  his  will  no  more  resemble 
mine  than  the  lives  of  the  same  person  by  different 
hands  usually  do  each  other,  there  is  a  vast  advantage 
in  being  first  at  market ;  and  besides,  the  Horatian  rule 
respecting  the  time  that  manuscripts  should  lie  upon 
the  shelf,  will  not  apply  to  what  is  annihilated  by 
keeping ;  for  after  Lady  Selina  has  been  dead  six 
months  no  one  will  care  about  her  or  her  history. 
Moreover,  Stanza  threatens  me  with  printing  from 
short  hand,  but  I  trust  the  public  will  be  predisposed 
to  prefer  an  old  friend  now  sinking  in  the  vale  of  years, 
who  has  almost  blinded  herself  in  their  service.  The 
work  itself  certainly  must  excite  attention  on  account 
of  its  originality  ;  for  besides  that  my  readers  may  ex- 
pect to  meet  with  some  of  their  own  acquaintance 
among  the  characters  it  contains,  the  history  of  an  old 

VOL.   I.  D 


30  THE  REFUSAL. 

maid,  with  all  the  scandal  she  either  circulated  or  ex- 
cited during  a  period  of  seventy  years,  must  be  allowed 
to  be  unique.  And  though  I  own  it  is  undertaken 
with  a  determination  of  establishing  the  honour  of  our 
sisterhood,  I  do  not  despair  of  occupying  a  high  place 
among  impartial  historians. 


[   33   ] 


CHAPTER  I. 


His  virtues  walk'd  their  narrow  round, 
Obscurely  wise  and  coarsely  kind. 

Johnson. 

Emily  Mandeville  was  nineteen  years  of  age 
when,  in  the  spring  of  1778,  she  exchanged  the 
gloomv  solitude  of  Lime  Grove  for  the  magnificent 
abode  of  her  ancestors,  situated  in  a  romantic  part  of 
Devonshire.  It  was  at  this  time  the  residence  of  her 
uncle,  Sir  Walter  Mandeville,  the  last  male  heir  of  an 
ancient  family,  in  whose  person  the  entail  expired. 
Sir  Walter  had  entered  the  army  in  early  life,  this 
being  one  of  the  common  destinations  of  a  younger 
brother,  and  had  soon  become  so  attached  to  his  pro- 
fession as  to  form  no  wish  for  such  a  permanent  con- 
nection  with  the  fair  sex  as  would  detach  his  thoughts 
from  the  duties  of  a  soldier*  Possibly  the  scanty  pro- 
vision of  a  younger  brother,  and  the  circumstance  that 
Sir  James  was  married,  and  had  a  family,  might  tend 
to  preserve  him  from  those  violent  attacks  of  wealth  and 
beauty  which  are  so  generally  irresistible.  Certain  tt  is, 
Colonel  Mandeville  was  suffered  to  acquire  a  sort  of  a 
misanthropic  opinion  of  the  ladies,  till,  on  the  death  of 
his  nephew,  a  promising  youth  of  sixteen,  he  became 
Sir  Walter.'  He  now,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  re- 
gretted that  his  days  had  been  spent  in  celibacy,  since 
it  consigned  the  name  of  Mandeville  to  oblivion,  and 
left  himself  and  a  young  female  orphan  the  sole  inhe- 
ritors of  the  blood  of  that  illustrious  family.  He  re- 
collected that  his  brother,  Sir  James,  on  his  deathbed, 
had  appointed  him  guardian  to  both  his  children;  but 
whilst  young  Sir  George  lived,  Emily  was  too  insignifi- 
cant to  attract  so  much  of  his  attention  as  to  induce 
him  to  remove  her  from  the  care  of  her  maternal  aunt. 


34-  THE  REFUSAL. 

Lady  Selina  Delamore,  though  he  believed  that  lady 
to  be  a  most  odious  character,  and  was  convinced  she 
would  quite  pervert  her  niece's  disposition. 

Sir  Walter  Mandeville  was  turned  of  sixty,  when 
the  demise  of  the  young  baronet  first  introduced  him 
to  the  possession  of  uncontrolled  power,  and  superflu- 
ous wealth,  for  the  disposal  of  which  no  human  tribunal 
could  call  him  to  account.  He  had  lived  neglected 
and  dependent  till  the  heyday  of  life  was  passed.  The 
treatment  he  had  endured  gave  him  a  dislike  for  his 
species,  and  it  was  not  removed  by  observing  that, 
though  the  poor  soldier  had  been  overlooked  and  de- 
spised, the  wealthy  baronet  was  courted  and  flattered. 
He  could  not  believe  himself  suddenly  transformed 
from  something  below  mediocrity  in  talent  to  a  gen- 
tleman of  most  respectable  understanding  ;  and  though 
the  stories  which  he  had  told  when  ensign,  without 
discomposing  one  countenance,  now  excited  thunders 
of  applause,  he  had  the  discernment  to  perceive,  and 
the  humility  to  acknowledge,  that  this  tribute  was  paid 
to  his  rank,  not  to  himself;  and  that  he  certainly  was 
a  worse  jester  now  than  he  had  been  forty  years  be- 
fore. Fortune,  therefore;  had  a  very  different  effect 
upon  his  sincere,  blunt  character,  to  what  she  usually 
exerts,  by  making  him  more  out  of  humour  with  the 
world,  and  dissatisfied  with  himself;  and  but  for  his 
strong  attachment  to  that  best  part  of  his  species,  the 
lire  of  Mandeville,  his  contempt  of  sycophants^  and 
his  pity  of  stupid  old  fellows  who  are  placed  in  situa- 
tions where  they  do  nothing  but  expose  themselves, 
would  have  induced  him  to  surrender  his  patrimony 
to  his  sovereign,  with  a  request  that  it  might  be  placed 
in  better  hands. 

Actuated  by  family  pride,  without  one  iota  of  what 
was  personal,  Sir  Walter  felt  it  his  duty  to  keep  up  the 
Mandeville  dignity.  He  had  public  days,  and  presided 
at  his  table,  sullen  through  pique,  and  awkward  from 
a  consciousness  of  inferiority.  He  distributed  charity 
with  a  sort  of  snarling  benevolence,  and  joined  in 
those  rural  sports  for  which   he  had  an  aversion,  and 


THE  REFUSAL.  3j 

found  inconvenient  to  his  personal  infirmities,  because 
the  Mandevilles  were  all  very  bountiful,  and  kept  fox- 
hounds. With  a  strong,  and  sometimes  acknowledg- 
ed, regret  for  those  happy  days,  when,  as  an  old  half- 
pay  officer,  he  could  stroll  about  master  of  his  own 
actions,  or  sun  himself  upon  a  bench  in  martial  conver- 
sation with  some  other  veterans,  as  Homer  describes 
his  Trojan  counsellors,  he  consented  to  be  steward  of 
the  assemblies  ;  and  with  a  persuasion  that  women 
were  a  greater  plague  than  any  Pandora  carried  in  her 
box,  he  sought  out  partners  for  the  tittering  misses, 
who  suppressed  their  ridicule  of  the  old  beau  in  his 
presence  only  from  the  hope  that  he  would  make  them 
an  offer.  Indeed,  Sir  Walter's  attachment  to  his  fa- 
mily soon  made  all  the  prudent  matrons  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood point  him  out  as  a  marrying  man;  and  he 
often  pondered  in  secret  on  the  eligibility  of  resigning 
the  comforts  of  singleness  for  the  chance  of  giving  a 
legal  heir  to  an  ancient  and  expiring  race  of  worthies. 
Whoever  considers,  that  though  Sir  Walter's  temper 
was  in  a  continual  state  of  irritation,  he  comprized 
every  earthly  blessing  in  the  term  bachelor,  will  truly 
estimate  the  nobleness  of  mind  which  could  induce 
one  of  the  most  inveterate  of  the  Benedict  order  to 
meditate  such  a  sacrifice.  Certainly,  his  person  did 
not  announce  a  very  eligible  votary  of  Hymen.  H's 
features,  naturally  hard,  were  bronzed  by  many  a  cam- 
paign in  tropical  regions  ;  he  had  lost  one  eye  at  the 
taking  of  the  Havannah  ;  and  a  musket  ball  had  lodged 
in  his  shoulder,  which  brought  on  infirmities  that  com- 
pelled him  to  quit  the  service,  ^e  had  too  much  of 
the  veteran  in  his  character  to  ascribe  to  himself  ima- 
ginary graces,  and  he  never  contemplated  his  figure 
without  lamenting  the  fallen  state  of  his  family. 

I  have  hinted,  that  his   opinion  of  the   fair  sex  did 

i not  tend  to  expedite  the  design  of  devoting  his  future 

days  to  their  society.    In  common  with  men  who  have 

been  more  accustomed  to  coarse  and  depraved,  than  to 

!  refined   and  amiable  women,  he  viewed  them  as  har- 

^pies,  who  spoiled  every  social  comfort,  rather  than 

D  2 


36  THE  REFUSAL. 

Halcyones  brooding  over  the  nest  of  domestic  felicity  ; 
and  he  more  especially  dressed  marriage  in  those  hues 
v.'hen  uxorious  infirmity  was  unequally  yoked  to  reluc- 
tant levity.  He  shuddered  at  the  idea  of  being  what 
he  called  dandled  about  by  some  disguised  shrew,  or 
cozening  demirep,  who  submitted  to  his  ill  humours 
for  the  sake  of  spending  his  fortune,  of  being  called 
Lady  Mandeville,  and  of  the  reversionary  hope  of  a 
large  jointure.  Some  few,  indeed,  of  his  old  compa- 
nions had  bound  their  grey  and  scattered  locks  with 
Hymen's  roses,  and  were  become  in  their  own  opinions 
happy  husbands  ;  but  then  Sir  Walter  thought  very 
meanly  of  their  understandings,  and  cordially  sub- 
scribed to  the  opinion  of  those  who  traced  every  evil 
under  the  sun  to  female  origin.  So  rigidly  did  he  ad- 
here to  this  school  of  metaphysics,  that,  exclusively  of 
the  glorious  scars  of  honour  which  he  deemed  orna- 
mental, there  was  not  a  defect  in  his  frame,  or  a  mis- 
fortune in  his  life,  that  he  did  not  derive  from  women. 
He  traced  his  asthmatic  attacks  to  his  great-grandmo- 
ther who  died  of  that  disease  ;  his  mother's  family  be- 
queathed him  the  gout ;  an  aunt  humoured  him  in  his 
indolence  till  he  became'an  invincible  blockhead  ;  his 
sister-in-law  made  a  mere  Jerry  of  her  husband,  in- 
jured his  fortune,  and  spoiled  Mandeville  castle  by 
putting  in  new  furniture,  and  making  what  she  called 
improvements  ;  and  lastly,  his  nephew  lost  his  life  by 
overheating  himself  with  dancing  at  Exeter  races,  with 
a  girl  who  wanted  to  entrap  the  poor  boy  for  her  hus- 
band. These  reflections  were  concluded  with  a  lamen- 
tation, that  though  women  were  jilts  the  world  could 
not  go  on  without  them. 

Whilst  balancing  the  miseries  of  his  intended  mar- 
riage against  the  supposed  duty  of  contracting  such  an 
engagement,  he  suddenly  recollected,  that  he  might 
sacrifice  his  peace  of  mind  and  freedom  without  se- 
curing the  perpetuity  of  his  family  :  he  might  have  no 
children,  or  only  daughters.  In  the  latter  case,  how- 
ever, it  would  be  possible,  as  he  had  great  parliamen- 
tary influence,  to  have  the  name  and  title  restored  in 


Tlttl  REFUSAL.  37 

the  son  of  one  of  these  unborn  heiresses.  Sir  Walter 
was  not  accustomed  to  make  any  very  bright  discove- 
ries, but  while  pursuing  this  train  of  thought,  he  found 
it  to  be  somewhat  improbable  that  he  should  live  to  see 
his  grandsons,  and  a  little  while  after  it  struck  him, 
that  since  the  estate  was  now  entirely  at  his  own  dis- 
posal he  might  as  well  give  it  to  his  brother's  daugh- 
ter as  to  his  own;  and  as  Emily  was  now  marriageable 
he  had  a  chance  of  seeing  half  Mandevilles  spring 
from  net  stock.  Every  time  he  pondered  on  this 
scheme  it  appeared  more  eligible,  and  he  began  to 
wish  to  get  acquainted  with  one  who  was  even  now  his 
presumptive  heiress.  If  he  invited  her  to  come  to  see 
him,  he  could  send  her  away  when  he  found  her 
troublesome,  an  advantage  a  wife  would  not  bring  with 
her.  Besides,  he  should  not  be  bound  to  her  for  life, 
for  the  heiress  of  the  Delamores  and  Mandevilles  would 
be  sure  to  find  a  husband  enterprising  enough  to  re- 
lieve him  from  the  arduous  task  of  trying  to  keep  a 
great  fortune  out  of  mischief. 

But  Sir  Walter  was  doomed  by  fate  to  be  involved  in 
difficulties,  especially  in  his  dealings  with  ladies. 
Common  civility  required  that  he  should  extend  his 
invitation  to  the  maiden  aunt  with  whom  she  had  re- 
sided since  the  death  of  both  her  parents.  The  senti- 
ments which  resolute  bachelors  entertain  toward  our 
sisterhood,  resemble  the  amity  of  cats  and  dogs,  and 
I  am  afraid  that  the  aversion  is  quite  as  reciprocal, 
though  every  one  must  allow  the  provocation  is  on  our 
side.  Sir  Walter  felt  more  than  the  common  animosity 
of  a  belligerent  to  Lady  Selina.  All  his  little  world 
spoke  ill  of  her.  He  knew  that  she  had  behaved  very 
badly  in  early  life,  and  she  was  sister  to  Lady  Hono- 
ria  Mandeville,  for  whom  he  had  a  violent  antipathy, 
though  he  had  never  seen  her  but  once.  His  reasons 
for  this  hatred  were,  that  she  governed  her  husband, 
shewed  some  contempt  for  the  family  heir-looms,  in- 
jured the  estate,  and  produced  but  one  son.  How  was 
he  to  endure,  even  for  a  few  months,  the  torment  of  be- 
ing circumscribed  in  his  own  castle  by  an  old  maid,  who 


38  THE  REFUSAL. 

according  to  the  nature  of  things,  must  be  whimsical 
and  contradictious.  He  loved  early  hours,  he  detest- 
ed books,  except  the  Memoirs  of  Marshal  Saxe,  and 
the  Campaigns  of  the  Duke  of  Marlborough ;  his  in- 
firmities required  hot  rooms,  and  his  chief  delight  was 
backgammon.  Now,  he  was  pre-assm*ed,  Lady  Seli- 
na  would  not  touch  her  dinner  till  he  wanted  to  go  to 
bed,  that  she  required  as  constant  a  supply  of  air  as  a 
windmill,  walked  about  with  a  Greek  Lexicon  in  her 
hand,  and  fell  into  hysterics  at  the  sound  of  the  dice 
box.  There  would  be  one  way  of  escaping  her ;  he 
could  let  the  castle,  take  lodgings  at  Bath,  put  up  a 
tent  bed  in  a  closet  for  Emily,  (if  he  found  the  aunt 
had  not  spoiled  her)  and  then  apologize  to  Lady  Seli- 
na  for  want  of  room  and  ill  health,  which  prevented 
him  from  any  longer  enjoying  her  company.  After 
various  determinations,  he  at  last  dispatched  the  follow- 
ing letter  to  Lime  Grove. 

"  Dear  niece, 

I  condole  with  you  very  heartily  on  poor  George's 
death.  He  was  a  fine  young  man,  and  would  have 
been  a  credit  to  the  family,  which  is  very  poorly  re- 
presented now.  Had  he  lived,  I  should  not  have  been 
so  much  concerned  about  you,  for  managing  this  estate 
is  quite  affliction  enough  for  me,  and  more  than  I  can 
well  bear,  never  having  been  used  to  business.  Be- 
sides, I  am  old  and  infirm, .and  that  makes  me  peevish. 
But  if  you  think  a  visit  to  me  will  be  any  treat  to  you, 
I  shall  be  glad  of  your  company  for  a  few  months, 
though  I  have  never  seen  you  since  you  were  christen- 
ed, when  I  stood  god-father.  I  had  promised  to  do 
so,  expecting  you  would  have  been  a  boy,  so  I  could 
not  well  get  off. 

Give  my  best  respects  to  Lady  Selina  Delamore,  and 
thank  her  for  all  the  trouble  she  has  had  with  you  ;  I  dare 
say  it  has  been  a  great  deal.  I  hope  she  has  not  per- 
mitted you  to  get  any  odd  ways,  or  taught  you  to  be 
disagreeable.  I  should  have  been  glad  to  see  her  la- 
dyship with  you,  but  my  old  castle  is  so  much  out  of  re- 


THE  REFUSAL.  39 

pair,  I  have  but  one  comfortable  room  to  live  in,  and 
we  have  no  card  assemblies  in  the  neighbourhood.  Be- 
sides, it  always  disagreed  with  vour  mother,  who  said 
she  caught  her  death  here.  Had  poor  George  lived, 
most  likely  he  would  have  rebuilt  it,  but  it  will  do  well 
enough  tor  me,  as  I  am  the  last  of  the  Mandevilles. 
So  we  shall  all  go  to  ruin  together.  I  suppose  you  will 
soon  pick  up  a  husband,  as  your  fortune  is  too  large 
for  any  woman,  even  if  I  don't  leave  you  mine ;  the 
more  is  the  pitv.  However,  it  is  our  duty  to  submit, 
and  make  the  best  defence  we  can,  when  the  campaign 
goes  against  us. 

I  remain 

Your  affectionate  uncle, 

Walter  Mandeville." 

Among  the  few  comforts  which  Lady  Selina  enjoy- 
ed, the  society  of  young  Emily  held  a  distinguished 
pre-eminence.  It  reconciled  her  to  life,  at  a  time 
when  the  world  appeared  a  disgusting  void,  and  the 
task  of  informing  her  niece's  mind  and  modelling  her 
manners,  greatly  tended  to  dissipate  a  melancholy, 
which,  as  no  one  could  clearly  explain  its  cause,  was 
charitably  ascribed  to  a  splenetic  disposition.  But 
though  an  old  maid,  and  confessedly  an  unhappy  one, 
Lady  Selina  was  not  so  entirely  self-devoted  as  to  re- 
strain Emily  from  accepting  her  guardian's  invitation. 
On  the  contrary,  she  rejoiced  that  he  seemed  at  length 
inclined  to  execute  the  duties  of  his  office  ;  and  though 
from  having  once  lived  in  the  World,  she  well  knew 
that  happiness  does  not  always  ride  about  in  a  vis-a-vis 
with  affluence,  she  was  not  displeased  to  find  Sir  Wal- 
ter least  thought  it  possible  that  Emily  might  eventual- 
ly prove  the  heiress  of  the  Mandeville,  as  she  already 
was  of  the  Delamore  family.  She  had  long  foreseen 
her  separation  from  her  amiable  charge.  Lime  Grove, 
although  well  adapted  for  the  purposes  of  a  nursery 
and  a  school,  was  an  improper  residence  for  a  young- 
lady  of  high  expectations;  and  she  was  endeavouring 
to  subdue  her  own   reluctance  to  appear  again  in  the 


40  THE  REFUSAL- 

world,  which  the  sudden  death  of  Sir  George  Mande- 
ville  opened  such  vast  views  to  her  niece,  that  she  felt 
bewildered  in  what  manner  to  act,  or  how  to  secure 
her  from  those  disadvantages  which  might  result  from 
an  introduction  under  her  own  immediate  auspices. 
While  she  was  thus  perplexed  as  to  the  mode  of  pro- 
ceeding she  should  adopt,  Emily's  age  convincing  her 
that  no  more  time  must  be  lost,  they  received  Sir  Wal- 
ter's letter.  The  propriety  of  restoring  the  young  la- 
dy to  her  father's  family,  was  indisputable.  'Tis  true, 
he  only  invited  her  for  a  short  time,  and  she  had  heard 
too  much  of  his  singularities,  to  suppose  that  the  un- 
cle and  niece  would  become  so  much  attached  as  to 
deprive  her  forever  of  the  society  of  her  adopted 
daughter;  but  there  were  great  advantages  annexed 
to  this  transitory  emigration  from  Lime  Grove,  as  it 
would  be  the  means  of  introducing  her  to  society,  to 
which  in  every  form  she  was  yet  a  stranger.  As  to 
herself,  the  summer  was  approaching,  the  severe  in- 
firmities from  which  she  had  so  long  suffered,  general- 
ly relaxed  their  fury  at  that  season,  when,  though  she 
could  not  be  said  to  enjoy  health,  pain  yielded  to  the 
softer  term  indisposition.  Her  garden  afforded  her 
great  amusement,  and  a  few  charitable  institutions 
which  she  had  formed  in  the  village,  satisfactorily 
employed  her  time  and  thoughts.  She  fancied  she 
could  live  without  Emily,  at  least  she  knew  it  to  be  a 
duty  to  endeavour  to  do  so  :  and  after  giving  her  let- 
ters of  introduction  to  the  few  ladies  whom  she  knew 
in  the  vicinity  of  Mandeville  Castle,  the  fair  Emily 
was  dismissed  with  many  a  blessing,  and  a  few  ill- 
concealed  tears,  on  what  proved  an  eventful  expedi- 
tion. 

Certainly  there  appeared  nothing  very  reprehensible 
in  this  part  of  Lady  Selina's  conduct ;  but  as  morose 
ill-principled  people  will  occasionally  act  in  a  credita- 
ble manner,  and  as  one  part  of  the  moral  which  I 
mean  to  enforce  is,  the  folly  and  danger  of  drawing- 
hasty  conclusions,  I  still  intreat  my  readers  to  suspend 
.their  opinions  of  this  mysterious  recluse.     I  have  ac- 


THE  REFUSAL.  41 

knowleclged  that  melancholy  threw  a  pensive  shade 
over  her  character,  and  does  not  this  circumstance 
alone,  of  her  being  unhappy,  intimate  that  she  had 
been  criminal  ?  I  leave  this  question  to  be  discussed 
by  those  writers,  who,  in  describing  the  lot  of  inno- 
cence, seem  to  consider  calamity  as  no  longer  one  of 
,  the  trials  that  virtue  is  doomed  to  undergo  in  this  pro- 
bationary state.  Among  the  oblations  which  we  daily 
offer  to  the  god  Prosperity,  we  now  sacrifice  the  repu- 
tations of  the  miserable,  and  we  not  only  say  with 
Young, 

"  Look  into  those  we  call  unfortunate, 

And  closer  view'd,  we  find  they  were  unwise," 

— but  with  Pope's  dealer  in  judgments,  we  often  so 
far  misapply  the  doctrine  of  a  particular  Providence, 
as  to  believe  "  the  nodding  temple  is  suspended,  to 
crush  the  head  of  Chartres." 

When  youth   is  uncontaminated   by  affectation  or 
duplicity,  its  feelings  are  always  acute.  Emily  thought, 
as  the  carriage  drove  from  Lime  Grove,  that  she  and 
happiness  had  bidden  adieu  till  they   should  be  again 
restored  to  each  other  in  the  society  of  her  dear  aunt, 
in  the  little  cedar  parlour.     At  this  moment,  she  for- 
got that  she  had  ever  felt  the  sameness  of  their  unva- 
ried days  ;  that  she  had  wished  to  see  a  little  more  of 
life  than  their  neighbouring  market-town  afforded,  or 
was  supplied  by  the  rector  and  apothecary,  and  two 
Dr  three  quiet  country  neighbours,  to  modernize   her 
vunt's  antiquated  description  of  her  own  times.     Like 
Dther  girls  of  her  age,  she  next  wished,  that  as  she  was 
separated  from  her   dear  and  only  friend,  the  horses 
lad  taken  the  road  to  London  ;  but  her  sorrow  in  leav- 
ng  Lady  Selina,  was  at  last  absorbed  by  painful  con- 
ectures  respecting  the  manner  in  which  she   should 
■pend  her  time  among  strangers,  and  in  a  sumptuous 
tyle  of  living  to  which  she  was  quite  unaccustomed. 
She  had  gained  a  few  particulars   of  her  guardian's 
paracter  from  her  brother  ;  his  own  letter  confirmed 


42  THE  REFUSAL. 

the  impression  of  singularity  ;  and  Lady  Selina's  part- 
ing precepts,  conjuring  her  to  be  assiduously  attentive, 
seemed  to  intimate  that  the  task  was  difficult.  She  had 
hitherto  pleased  every  body,  but  it  was  without  any 
studied  effort,  and  she  greatly  feared  that  her  powers 
of  fascination  were  not  so  inherent  as  to  exempt  her 
from  the  awkwardness  of  forced  exertion.  Again  she 
wished  the  summer  over,  and  as  her  aunt  had  hinted 
that  her  introduction  to  the  great  world  must  take 
place  the  ensuing  winter,  her  anticipation  of  the  un- 
known delights  of  London  made  her  still  more  indif- 
ferent to  catch  the  first  glance  of  the  turrets  of  Man- 
deville  castle. 


[  43   j 


CHAPTER  II. 


High  rising-  in  baronial  pride, 

Near  a  swift  river  deep  and  wide, 

With  battlements  and  turrets  crown'd, 

The  castle  in  stern  grandeur  frown'd. 

It  stood  upon  a  wooded  hill 

Shelter'd  from  tempests  strong"  and  chill, 

Grey  were  its  mossy  walls,  jet  time 

Had  spar'd  the  pomp  of  early  prime ; 

And  the  arch'd  gate  and  stately  tower, 

Could  still  a  stern  defiance  lower, 

Had  not  a  mild  and  peaceful  age 

Bcnumb'd  the  arm  of  feudal  rage. 

Yet  tho'  around  the  martial  keep 

Thick  clematis  and  ivy  creep, 

And  where  the  archers  stood  in  rows, 

Profuse  th'  untrodden  wall-flower  blows. 

This  lofty  fabric  still  retains 

The  homage  of  the  native  swains  ; 

And  they  whose  sires  were  wont  to  arm, 

When  its  red  beacons  gave  alarm, 

Now  with  pure  hearts,  contrite  audmeek, 

The  solace  of  its  chapel  seek. 

Or  at  its  owner's  friendly  call 

Joyous  frequent  the  crowded  hall  : 

For  duly  at  each  holy  time 

The  bells  were  rung  in  solemn  chime, 

And  still  the  village  poor  were  fed, 

The  social  banquet  still  was  spread. 

And  as  the  tale  or  jest  went  round, 

His  honour's  health  the  goblet  crown'd 

Hoping  the  line  would  ne'er  run  out, 

And  next  year's  cyder  be  as  stout. 

Manuscript. 


WHEN  Emily's  carriage  had   passed  the   avenue 

leading  to  the  castle,  the  decriped   owner,  dressed  in 

his  Kevenhuller  hat  and  scarlet  roquelaure,  advanced 

to  the  porter's  ward  to  meet  his  trembling  visitor.    He 

I    first,  with  somewhat  of  an  alarmed  aspect,  inquired 

//  after  Lady  Selina's  health,  and  being  assured  that   it 

|.  VOL.   I.  E 


44  THE  REFUSAL 

was  too  delicate  to  permit  her  to  undertake  a  long 
journey,  he  pressed  Emily's  hand  affectionately,  told 
her  she  was  a  good  girl  to  come  by  herself,  and  led 
her  through  a  double  line  of  servants  dressed  in  state 
liveries,  to  a  spacious,  but  ill-furnished  saloon.  Here 
he  presented  her  to  a  lady  clad  in  the  deepest  sables, 
whom  he  announced  by  the  name  of  Lady  Mackin- 
tosh, of  Dunswood,  by  whose  discreet  conduct  and 
amiable  manners,  he  wished  Emily  to  form  her  own 
behaviour.  Though  the  young  lady  did  not  remem- 
ber this  name  among  the  number  of  those  with  whom 
her  aunt  wished  her  to  be  intimate  ;  the  presence  of  a 
female  companion  was  a  wonderful  relief  to  her  mind, 
and  she  returned  her  ladyship's  embrace  with  a  warmth 
almost  equally  affectionate  j  but  she  found  herself  very 
deficient  in  volubility  when  she  attempted  to  express, 
with  the  same  rapture  as  Lady  Mackintosh  had  evinc- 
ed, the  ecstacy  she  felt  at  this  interview,  and  her  con- 
viction that  it  was  the  commencement  of  a  permanent 
friendship. 

When-  dinner  was  announced,  Sir  Walter,  with  a 
ceremonious  bow,  led  his  niece  to  the  head  of  the  ta- 
ble, and  desired  her  to  consider  herself  as  mistress  of 
the  mansion,  while  she  honoured  it  with  her  residence. 
A  transient  cloud  passed  over  Lady  Mackintosh's  face 
during  this  address,  and  on  their  return  to  the  saloon, 
she  redoubled  her  efforts  to  conciliate  Emily's  esteem. 
She  at  first  made  a  slight  inquiry  after  Lady  Selina, 
but  finding  it  answered  in  a  tone  of  the  warmest  affec- 
tion and  gratitude,  she  grew  lavish  in  her  praises. — 
"  I  was  but  a  child,"  said  she,  "  when  I  saw  her  at 
Mandeville  castle.  Beauty  and  grace  were  blended 
in  her  person,  and  her  manners  were  so  very  captivat- 
ing, that  I  protest  I  never  saw  her  equal.  She  had 
the  goodness  to  shew  me  her  wadding  clothes  ;  such 
taste  and  magnificence  !  How  often  did  I  wish  that 
I  had  been  Lady  Selina  Delamore!  Poor  soul,  and 
to  think  how  it  all  ended !  I  suppose  you  know  the 
full  particulars  ?" 


THE  REFUSAL.  45 

Emily  protested  that  she  was  utterly  ignorant  of  her 
aunt's  early  history.  "  Astonishing  !"  returned  Lady 
Mackintosh,  "  but  she  really  is  the  most  singular  wo- 
man I  know,  singularly  discreet  I  mean  ;  and  indeed, 
my  dear  little  Emily,  you  are  very  like  her.  Such 
prudence  at  your  age  is  wonderful.  But  I  hope  you 
will  repay  your  uncle's  kindness  by  fixing  at  Mande- 
ville  castle.  How  I  shall  exult  in  acting  as  chaperon 
to  so  much  beauty  and  virtue." 

She  then  proceeded  to  exculpate  herself  from  what 
Emily's  unsuspicious  mind  had  not  discovered  to  be  an 
impropriety,  I  mean  her  own  intimacy  with  Sir  Wal- 
ter. Rivers  of  tears  ran  down  her  cheeks  while  she 
described  the  warm  friendship  that  had  subsisted  be- 
tween Sir  Walter  and  her  ever-beloved,  her  ever-la- 
mented husband.  "  Sir  Jeremiah,"  said  she  in  plain- 
tive accents,  "  bequeathed  me  to  the  care  of  his  se- 
cond self,  and  since  that  event  which  I  cannot  name, 
Sir  Walter  Mandeville  is  the  only  gentleman  whose 
society  I  can  support.  My  heart  is  wedded  to  the 
;  ashes  of  my  lamented  partner ;  and  if  the  sweet  at- 
tractions of  your  ingenuous  manners  should  draw  mc 
frequently  to  Mandeville  castle,  let  not  your  prudence 
suspect  that  any  sinister  design  harbours  in  this  sad 
bosom.  But  I  forget,  you  know  not  my  historv  and 
the  noble  frankness  of  your  countenance  invites  my 
confidence." 

The  history  of  Lady  Mackintosh  would  have  con- 
tained  nothing  extraordinary,  had  it  not  been   for  the 
style  in  which  she  adorned  it.     She  was  born  a  beauty, 
with  small  fortune,  attracted  more  lovers  than  offers  of 
i  marriage,  and,  when  the  roses  of  youth  had  faded,  se- 
cured herself  a  small  jointure    by  becoming  the   filth 
wife  of  Sir  Jeremiah   Mackintosh,  and   mother-in-law 
i  to  four  sets  of  children.    To  the  happiness  of  this  con- 
nection,  her  flowing   crape   and  streaming  tears  now 
bore  witness  ;   and  she  protested  her  frequent  visits  to 
Mandeville  castle  had  no  other  motive   than  to  con- 
verse about  the  dear   man  with  one  who  knew  all  his 
fA-irtues,  or  to  implore  the  counsel  and  protection  of  Sir 


46  THE  REFUSAL. 

Walter  for  a  poor  woman  who  had  now  lost  her  only 
friend. 

Though  Emily  had  seen  nothing  of  the  world,  all 
the  ingenuousness  of  innocents  could  not  prevent  her 
from  perceiving  that  her  uncle's  attentions  were  pecu- 
liarly grateful  to  this  lady,  and  that,  on  his  side,  they 
much  exceeded  the  strained  politeness  which  the  habits 
of  military  gallantry  usually  extorted  from  this  pro- 
iessed  woman  hater.  In  truth,  Sir  Walter  had  hitherto 
considered  the  fair  widow  as  the  only  exception  to  fe- 
male craft  and  female  folly,  which  the  experience  of 
sixty  years,  and  a  residence  in  many  different  countries, 
had  supplied  ;  and  when  he  pondered  on  the  dire  ne- 
cessity of  contracting  a  matrimonial  alliance,  he  some- 
times regretted  that  Lady  Mackintosh  was  too  incon- 
solable to  allow  him  a  hope  of  success,  and  too  old  to 
produce  him  a  son.  Indeed,  he  could  scarcely  think  it 
right  to  attempt  the  subversion  of  the  virtue  he  re- 
vered, for  his  admiration  of  her  was  founded  on  the 
deep  affliction  with  which  the  loss  of  her  husband  ap- 
peared to  overwhelm  her.  This  regret  he  considered 
the  more  generous,  from"  having  been  often  called  upon 
to  arbitrate  between  them,  when  their  disputes  ex- 
ceeded that  sort  of  quiet  bickering  and  well-bred  sar- 
casm, which  is  thought  very  wholesome  in  the  married 
state.  Here,  however,  the  case  was  different  to  what 
he  found  it  in  other  families,  the  lady  was  always 
right;  and  after  proving  herself  to  be  so,  by  her  sub- 
mission to  the  domination  of  an  obstinate  wayward 
husband,  she  made  even  Sir  Walter  regret,  that  the 
only  woman  who  knew  how  to  govern  a  family  was 
pushed  into  the  back  ground  by  a  surly  Petruchio 
ir.i.ch  below  her  in  talents.  I  do  not  mean  to  refer 
this  whimsical  decision  to  the  god  of  love.  When  Cu- 
pid is  fast  asleep  Caprice  often  steals  his  arrows,  and 
c  xeroises  pertinacious  veterans,  and  designing  adven- 
turers, in  a  ridiculous  game  of  archery.  If  the  reader 
will  not  believe  that  a  desire  of  talking  of  dead  Sir  Je- 
remiah, or  a  love  for  the  living  Emily,  occasioned 
Lady  Mackintosh  to  be  a  constant  guest  at  the  castle 


THE  REFUSAL.  47 

of  Sir  Walter,  they  must  try  to  account  for  her  con- 
duct   from   the    circumstance  of  her   having   a  small 
jointure  and   a  great  soul.     Like   many  other  ladies, 
she  discovered  that  she  was  fit  to  move  in  an  exalted 
sphere,  and  knowing  she  was  capable  of  spending  eight 
thousand  a  year,  who  could  condemn   her  for  wishing 
to  obtain  the  means  ?  Scheming  ladies,  like  skilfull  ge- 
1  nerals,  are  anxious  to  carry  on  their  operations  remote 
from    the    observation    of   the    hostile   party.     Lady 
Mackintosh    had   opposed  the   introduction  of   Miss 
Mandeville  to  the  castle,  with  a  steadiness  that  almost 
shook  Sir  Walter's  opinion  of  her  extreme  pliability, 
but  no  sooner  was  the  young  lady  arrived  than,  with 
the  most  graceful  versatility,  she  veered  into  a  positive 
conviction  of  the  propriety  of  her  residing  with  her 
uncle,  and  was  all  gratitude  and  transport   at  the  ac- 
quisition of  such  a  companion.     One  reason  for  this 
alteration  was  her  perceiving,  that  suspicion  was  not  a 
•predominant   feature   in   the   character   of  her  young 
1  friend  ;  who  was  so  little   inclined  to  draw  uncandid 
conclusions  that  the  blooming  widow   often  carried  on 
her  lines  of  circumvallation  in  the  presence  of  the  ex- 
pectant  niece,  without   stimulating   her  to   undertake 
the  relief  of  the  beleagured  fort.     Indeed,  Emily  had 
all  that  sovereign  contempt  of  wealth,  arid  that  abhor- 
rence of  mercenary  motives,  which  exist  in  those  who 
have  never  found  their  enjoyments  circumscribed  by 
the  want  of  means  to  procure  them.     She  was  the  in- 
heritrix of  all  her  grandfather  Lord  Montolieu's  for- 
tune, except  a  small  annuity  settled  upon  her  aunt  Seli- 
na  ;  yet,  with   that   perfect  ignorance  of  the   value  of 
money,  and  disregard  of  self,  which,  when  annexed  to 
a  good  heart  and  a  sound  judgment,  often  ripen  into 
true   liberality,    she   never  troubled  herself  to  inquire 
how  many  thousands  were   inscribed  upon  her  rent- 
-oll.     She   was  only  anxious  to_  be  of  age,  that  she 
might   make  a  splendid  addition  to  the  scanty  incomev 
of  her  dearest  friend.     She  however  once  ranked  the 
possibility  of  being  Sir  Walter's  heiress   among  the 
^.igreeable  contingencies  of  her  future  life,  nor,  while 
7  E  2 


43  THE  REFUSAL. 

she  felt  the  inconveniences  attached  to  the  immense 
damp  rooms  and  stone  galleries  in  the  castle,  did  she 
lay  any  plan  for  its  future  improvement.  Had  she 
even  been  assured  that  all  the  widows  and  spinsters  in 
the  kingdom  were  assembled  in  full  council,  to  debate 
on  the  expediency  of  attacking  this  same  redoubtable 
fortress,  and  had  actually  named  formidable  generals 
to  head  the  design,  such  was  her  opinion  of  the  imprac- 
ticability and  folly  of  the  attempt  that  she  would  have 
remained  quiet ;  careless  of  the  event,  except  as  it 
might  affect  the  happiness  of  her  guardian. 

But  though  Miss  Mandeville  was    thus,  may  I  not 
say  nobly,  indifferent  to  the  artifices  of  others,  and  in- 
capable of  practising  any  herself,  there  was  an  engag- 
ing  frankness  and   gentle  tenderness  in   her  manners 
and  temper  which   soon   insinuated  into  Sir  Walter's 
good  graces,  maugre   all  the  resistance  of  spleen  ,and 
prejudice,  or  even  the  more  dangerous  commendations 
of  Lady  Mackintosh,  could  oppose.     Emily  sincerely 
valued  her  uncle's  good  qualities,  and  she  pitied  with 
equal  sincerity  the  disadvantages  and  infirmities  which 
fostered   his   caprices.     Thus   an  internal   feeling  go- 
verning her  expressions   and  looks,  the   former  were 
always  affectionate  and  the  latter  attentive.    True,  she 
never  reached    the    hyperbolical   praise   which    Lady 
Mackintosh  liberally  bestowed :  but  if  she  never  was 
officiously  solicitous,  she  never  was  negligent  ;  and  so 
powerful  is  the    charm  of  calm,  uniform,  patient  ten- 
derness, to  those  who  have  never  experienced  any  thing 
but  the  cold  servility  of  mercenary  attendance,  or  the 
wily  cant  of  flattery,  that  Sir  Walter  very  soon  laid  all 
his  matrimonial  schemes  aside,  and  declared  his  gentle 
r.iece  the  heiress  of  his  fortunes.   In  a  few  months,  he 
found  her  accommodating  temper,  and  anticipating  at- 
tentions, so  necessary  to  his  infirm  frame,  that  instead 
of  being  anxious  to'  rid  himself  of  so  troublesome  a 
tharge   as  he  had    imagined  a  girl  in  the  bloom   of 
youth  must  prove  to  a  worn  out  soldier,  totally  igno- 
rant of  female  wiles,  his  wish  was  to  die  in  her  arms. 
And  he  determined,  that  residence  in  Mandeville  Cas* 


THE  REFUSAL.  49 

tie  should  be  the  first  condition  he  would  require  of  the 
man  whom  he  entrusted  with  so  great  a  treasure  as  he 
unexpectedly  discovered  his  dear  little  niece  really 
was.  Tis  true,  he  still  thought  female  mischievous- 
ness  should  not  only  be  circumscribed  within  the  pale 
of  wedlock,  but  be  absolutely  submitted  to  the  rule  of 
man.  But  general  rules  bend  to  particular  occasions, 
and  with  such  bright  examples  as  Emily  and  Lady 
Mackintosh  to  enlighten  his  understanding,  it  is  no 
wonder  that  he  wished  his  niece's  future  consort  would 
sometimes  allow  her  to  have  her  own  way,  as  in  that 
case  he  was  sure  she  would  be  good  to  him. 

Thus,  without  any  extraordinary  endowments  of  na- 
ture, or  any  borrowed  aids  from  art,  the  simplicity 
and  affectionate  sweetness  of  Miss  Mandeville  re- 
stored her  uncle  to  his  natural  self,  and  from  a  peevish 
misanthrope,  whose  very  benevolence  and  mean  opi- 
nion of  himself  made  him  unhappy,  and  prepossessed 
him  with  the  idea  that  he  was  a  useless  blank  in  the 
creation,  the  jest  of  wise  men  and  the  prey  of  knaves, 
the  single  circumstance  of  his  having  excited  an  inte- 
rest in  one  grateful  heart  reconciled  him  to  himself 
and  the  world.  "  I  only  did  my  duty,"  said  he,  "  in 
sending  for  my  brother's  orphan  girl,  and  see  what  a 
blessing  she  is  to  me.  My  fortune  was  her's  by  right, 
and  she  is  as  thankful  to  me  for  saving  she  shall  have 
it  as  if  she  were  a  charity  girl.  No,  no,  Emily  is  no 
cheat ;  in  my  last  fit  of  the  asthma,  when  they  thought 
me  insensible  and  dying,  I  heard  all  that  passed.  Lady 
Mackintosh  asked  if  I  had  made  a  will,  and  to  be  sure 
that  was  very  considerate  and  good  in  her  ladyship ; 
but  I  never  shall  forget  how  Emily  sobbed  over  me, 
and  said  her  dear,  dear  uncle  was  gone  for  ever." 

The  few  months  for  which  Emily  was  invited  to 
Castle  Mandeville  were  passed,  and  Lady  Selina  be- 
gan to  remind  her  niece  that  she  ought  not  to  press 
upon  her  uncle's  hospitality.  But  Sir  Walter's  reluct- 
ance to  part  with  his  young  companion  had  increased  to 
such  a  height,  that  he  privately  sent  that  lady  word  that 
he  would  not  give  up  his  fair  ward.  When  he  had  the 


50  THE  REFUSAL. 

gout  no  one  placed  his  footstool  in  so  happy  a  position, 
or  roasted  the  orange  for  his  night  potion  with  such 
adroitness.  .  Her  simple  plaintive  songs  often  charmed 
away  both  pain  and  peevishness,  and  he  discovered 
that  since  she  had  presided  at  his  table  the  conversa- 
tion improved,  and  the  guests  seemed  happier,  though 
he  displayed  less  state,  and  they  drank  less  wine.  In, 
some  few  instances,  he  had  not  his  own  way  so  much 
as  before  Emily's  arrival,  but  he  almost  thought  the 
alterations  she  had  imperceptibly  introduced  were  im- 
provements, and  so  happy  did  he  find  himself  with 
his  lovely  niece  in  the  reciprocal  exercise  of  acquies- 
cence and  indulgence,  that  he  began  to  suspect  nature 
had  really  designed  him  for  the  fond  husband  and  the 
tender  father,  and  that  his  apparent  moroseness  was 
but  the  accidental  incrustation  of  a  benevolent  heart, 
petrified  at  not  having  its  own  susceptibility  met  with 
equal  warmth  and  frankness.  But  while  he  solaced 
himself  with  the  thought,  that  without  doing  any  ridi- 
culous action  in  his  old  age,  or  compromising  his  liber- 
ty or  his<  reputation,  he  had  secured  the  society  and 
affection  of  a  sweet  young  woman,  he  never  allowed 
himself  to  think  of  the  deprivation  Lady  Selina  must 
endure,  who  had  reared  the  rose  he  now  cherished  on 
his  bosom,  and  was  compelled  to  surrender  it  when  it 
became  most  valuable.  His  aversion  to  this  lady  still 
continued,  and  he  considered  Emily's  virtues  and 
graces  as  inherent  qualities  derived  from  the  Mande- 
ville  blood,  which  her  bad  example  could  not  annihi- 
late. He  onlv  allowed  this  affectionate  aunt  the  nega- 
tive praise  of  having  made  Emily's  temper  so  sweet 
and  compliant  by  the  early  trials  to  which  she  subjected 
it.  Gratitude  to  her  uncle  for  his  affection  and  libera- 
lity induced  Emily,  with  some  reluctance,  to  inform 
her  aunt,  that  she  could  not  resist  his  wish  to  stay  with 
him  a  little  longer,  that  she  really  felt  contented,  and 
should  be  quite  happy  if  she  could  hear  her  dear  ma- 
ternal guardian  had  found  some  substitute  for  her  so- 
ciety during  the  long  dull  evenings  which  were  now 
approaching.     If  she  could  spend  this  one  winter  with- 


THE  REFUSAL.  Jl 

out  her,  she  hoped  in  spring  to  find  a  little  cottage 
near  them,  and  that  her  aunt  would  permit  herself  to 
be  removed  from  her  cold  gloomy  habitation  to  the 
warm  air  and  pleasant  society  of  Devonshire.  She 
also  pledged  her  own  reputation  for  veracity,  that 
(whatever  odd  tales  they  had  mutually  heard  of  each 
other)  she  and  Sir  Walter  would  be  the  best  of  friends 
in  a  fortnight  after  they  should  become  personally  ac- 
quainted. 

Anxious  to  acquit  my  sisterhood  of  the  charge  of 
selfishness,  so  strongly  urged  against  them  by  bashaw 
Benedicts,  I  must  observe,  that  Lady  Selina  in  her  an- 
swer spoke  largely  of  her  o"-vn  comforts  and  improved 
health.  She  rejoiced  in  the  partiality  of  Sir  Walter 
for  Emily,  and  in  her  own  satisfaction  in  his  protec- 
tion ;  and  reminded  her  that  she  was  now  residing  with 
her  natural  guardian,  to  whom  her  father  had   trans- 

I  ferred  his  claim  of  duty.  Without  absolutely  rejecting 
the  plan  of  her  own  removal,  she  spoke  of  it  as  pro- 
blematical,  and  concluded  with  saying,  that  instead  of 

i  regarding  him  with  prejudice,  she  felt  warm  admira- 
tion for  Sir  Walter. 

This  business  being  adjusted,  the  winter  amuse- 
ments of  Mandeville  Castle  commenced,  and  as  the 
state  of  the  roads,  and  the  migrations  of  the  inhabi- 
tants to  London,  allowed  a  less  frequent  routine  of  vi- 
sits, back-gammon  and  reading  took  a  larger  share. 
The  latter  (except  when  Sir  Walter  was  absent)  was 
entirely  limited  to  military  studies;  and  as  every  re- 
corded siege  or  battle  brought  to  the  baronet's  mind 
some  similar  incident  in  his  own  campaigns,  and  en- 
gaged him  in  a  long  detail  of  the  corresponding  cir- 
cumstances under  which  he  had  seen  fields  lust  or  won, 
Emily  perceived  that  there  was  little  prospect  of  finish- 
ing the  thick  folio  which  contained  the  triumphs  of  the 
great  Duke  of  Marlborough,  and  lamented  her  want  of 
relish  for  what  was  likely  to  prove  a  lasting  entertain- 
ment. She  had  made  herself  complete  mistress  of  back- 

i  gammon,  but  Lady  Mackintosh  was  infinitely  the  better 

^commander,  and  could  talk  about  ravelins,    bastions. 


52  THE  REFUSAL. 

and  counterscarps,  and  the  method  of  drawing  an  ene- 
my into  an  enfilade,  marshalling  an  army,  storming  a 
fort,  and  covering  a  retreat,  with  a  precision  which  in- 
creased Sir  Walter's  admiration  of  her  vast  abilities. 
To  say  the  truth,  Lady  Mackintosh  was  inclined  to 
exercise  her  generalship  upon  poor  Emily,  who  feeling 
a  desire  not  to  appear  ignorant  of  what  her  uncle 
thought  essential  knowledge,  sometimes  attempted  to 
quote  Marshal  Saxe,  or  to  describe  the  battles  of  Cae- 
sar and  Xenophon,  but  she  knew  so  little  about  draw- 
ing up  her  forces  that  she  fell  into  the  first  ambuscade 
her  antagonist  prepared  for  her,  and  lost  the  battle,  at 
the  instant  she  was  describing  how  it  was  won.  The 
good  natured  Sir  Walter,  often  endeavoured  to  check 
her  ladyship's  laugh  of  triumph,  with  a  "  Pho,  pho, 
well  the  child  was  mistaken ;"  but  her  unaptness  to 
comprehend  a  science  in  which  he  condescended  to  be 
her  instructor,  would  soon  have  lowered  his  opinion  of 
his  young  pupil's  understanding,  had  it  not  been  for 
one  circumstance  which  is  of  importance  to  my  narra- 
tive. 

I  have  premised,  that  "these  military  studies  were  il. 
lustrated  by  anecdotes,  chiefly  drawn  from  Sir  Wal- 
ter's own  observation  ;  and  as  in  talking  over  the  fields 
he  had  fought,  the  recollection  of  a  strong  attachment 
he  then  formed,  forcibly  rushed  on  his  mind,  and  gave 
energy  to  his  language,  he  soon  fixed  his  niece's  atten- 
tion, which,  ever  wandering  from  Churchill's  anteda- 
ted wars,  turned  with  so  ardent  a  gaze  on  his  counte- 
nance while  he  recited  the  engagements  he  had  wit- 
nessed on  the  banks  of  the  Elbe,  and  Scheldt,  that  she 
would  next  day  give  a  clear  account  of  the  whole 
transactions.  It  never  occurred  to  him  that,  in  those 
martial  representations,  he  generally  introduced  one 
portrait,  Sydney  earl  of  Avondel,  whose  then  youth- 
ful arm  rescued  him  at  the  battle  of  Minden  from  the 
sword  of  a  Bavarian  officer.  He  was  under,  lying,  his 
feet  unhorsed  and  wounded,  in  the  momentary  expec- 
tation of  the  exterminating  blow,  when  the  gallant 
Avondel,  who  acted  as  a  volunteer  in   his   companv, 


tUe  refusal.  53 

rushed  upon  the  enemy,  and  preserved  the  life  of  his 
officer  at  the  imminent  peril  of  his  own. 

Nor  was  this  the  only  action  in  which  the  young 
earl  had  evinced  his  prowess  and  magnanimity.  At 
least  the  gratitude  and  affection  of  Sir  Walter  trans- 
formed him  into  a  hero  equal  to  that  of  an  heroic 
poem,  who  performs  every  important  action  in  his  own 
proper  person.  Was  a  redoubt  carried  with  peculiar 
circumstances  of  gallantry,  Lord  Avondel  command- 
ed the  detachment.  Were  the  intended  measures  of 
the  enemy  so  clearly  pointed  out  to  the  general  that  he 
was  able  to  post  his  advanced  guard  so  as  to  counter- 
act their  designs  j  this  only  happened  when  Lord 
Avondel  went  on  the  reconnoitering  party.  He  also 
uniformly  took  the  standards,  and  led  the  pursuit. — 
The  most  distinguished  prisoners  that  were  taken  had 
submitted  to  him,  and  his  urbanity  to  the  vanquished 
was  always  equal  to  his  skill  in  gaining  the  victory. — 
Even  when  misfortune  clouded  the  lustre  of  the  Bri- 
tish arms,  the  name  of  Avondel  continued  to  shine 
pure  and  resplendent,  for  Sir  Walter  described  him  as 
diminishing  the  horrors  of  a  retreat,  parting  with  every 
personal  convenience  to  relieve  the  anguish  of  his  sick 
and  wounded  soldiers,  comforting  the  indigent  widow, 
and  protecting  the  destitute  orphan.  To  these  enco- 
miums the  baronet  added  the  praise  of  every  gentle- 
manlike accomplishment  and  civic  virtue.  "  I  always 
was  a  blockhead,"  he  would  say ;  "  my  aunt  Dorothy 
never  suffered  me  to  be  whipt  when  I  was  an  idle  lub- 
ber and  tore  my  Accidence.  Take  me  out  of  a  camp 
and  I  know  nothing,  but  Avondel  is  learned  enough 
to  be  archbishop  of  Canterbury.  He  had  too  much 
sense  to  be  a  courtier,  or  no  finical  fop  among  them 
could  match  him  for  fine  breeding.  He  has  shone 
in  the  House  of  Lords,  and  when  he  was  sent  as  am- 
bassador to  any  court  he  always  did  his  errand.  He 
had  no  business  to  turn  soldier  to  hack  and  hew  his 
way  to  a  scanty  maintenance,  for  he  was  the  only  son 
|of  a  noble  family  and  I  still  hope,  after  all  he  has 
suffered    these  twenty   years,  he   will,  if  he  lives  to 


54  THE  REFUSAL. 

come  back  to  England,  marry  some  worthy  woman, 
and  bring  up  heroes  like  himself."  Miss  Mandeville 
once  asked  her  uncle  to  explain  what  sufferings  Lord 
Avondel  had  undergone,  but  after  expressing  some 
surprise  that  she  had  never  heard  of  his  base  usage, 
declared  himself  unable  to  tell  the  particulars,  but 
added  that  it  was  a  very  infamous  affair. 

An  incident  happened  at  Lime  Grove  the  day  be- 
fore Miss  Mandeville  left  it  which  strongly  impressed 
her  youthful  imagination.  Anxious  to  present  her 
niece  with  some  token  of  remembrance  before  they 
separated,  Lady  Selina  unlocked  her  casket  of  jewels, 
which  were  remarkably  magnificent,  in  her  presence, 
and  the  young  lady's  eye  was  instantly  attracted  by  the 
portrait  of  a  gentleman  richly  set  with  cliamonds. — 
The  features  beamed  with  the  noble  expression  of  dig- 
nity and  beauty,  and  the  costly  enchasing  intimated 
that  it  was  the  gift  of  peculiar  attachment.  Turning 
her  eyes  on  her  aunt,  Emily  discovered  that  the  faint 
tinge  of  carmine  which  ill  health  had  left  in  her  coun- 
tenance was  faded  to  the  most  deathlike  paleness,  while 
her  lips  quivered  with  concealed  emotion.  The  only 
answer  which  she  could  articulate  to  her  niece's  ques- 
tion, as  to  the  name  of  the  gentleman,  was,  u  that  he 
was  the  first  and  best  of  men."  "  Is  he  dead,"  in- 
quired Miss  Mandeville.  "  Perhaps  he  is,"  was 
Lady  Selina's  reply,  while,  with  a  trembling  hand  and 
averted  eyes,  as  if  she  feared  to  indulge  herself  with 
a  look,  she  restored  the  picture  to  its  envelope,  and 
adding,  that  he  had  been  long  absent  from  England, 
locked  the  casket  and  left  the  room.  At  their  next 
meeting,  Emily  perceived  her  aunt's  eyes  were  in- 
flamed with  weeping,  and  she  resolved  never  more  to 
revive  the  painful  subject. 

It  so  happened  that  Sir  Walter  Mandeville,  in  one 
of  his  .warm  eulogiums  on  Lord  Avondel,  used  the 
same  exclamation  of  admiration  that  had  burst  Irom 
Lady  Selina  on  Emily's  discovering  the  mysterious 
picture,  and  with  all  that  warmth  of  imagination  which 
teaches  young  people  to  believe  that  to  be   true  which 


THE  REFUSAL  jj 

is  only  possible,  and  also,  that  the  object  which  occu- 
pies their  own  thoughts  is  the  only  one  in  the  world 
worth  contemplating,  the  amiable  girl  persuaded  her- 
self, that  this  most  distinguished  of  human  beings, 
the  celebrated  Lord  Avondel,  was  equally  esteemed 
and  loved  by  her  two  nearest  relations,  and  was  some- 
how connected  with  the  melancholy  of  her  dearest 
aunt.  His  eminent  success  in  the  East  Indies  had 
long  filled  the  pages  of  the  Gazette,  and  cheered  the 
drooping  spirits  of  the  nation,  depressed  by  the  ad- 
verse and  afflicting  circumstances  which  attended  the 
American  war.  One  circumstance  militated  against 
the  conclusion  she  had  formed,  the  portrait  was  not 
dressed  as  an  officer  ;  and  surely  a  hero  of  such  emi- 
nence would  choose  to  have  his  likeness  taken  in  the 
costume  which  he  wore  so  honourably  to  himself  and 
advantageously  to  his  country  ?  If  her  uncle  would 
but  tell  her  all  he  knew  respecting  the -early  history  of 
his  friend,  the  point  of  identity  might  soon  be  deter- 
i  mined. 

Her  utmost  address,  however,  could  discover  no 
more  than  that  Lord  Avondel  embarked  in  the  pursuit 
of  military  fame  in  consequence  of  a  severe  disap- 
pointment, and  most  scandalous  usage  from  a  woman 
.to  whom  he  was  much  attached.  His  debut  in  arms 
was  marked  with  circumstances  of  peculiar  splendour, 
and  he  rose  rapidly  to  the  highest  honours.  After  the 
peace  of  Aix  la  Chapelle,  he  was  entrusted  with  a 
special  commission  to  a  foreign  state,  and  concluded 
a  treaty  highly  beneficial  to  his  country.  He  resided 
many  years  in  Florence  as  ambassador  at  the  court  of 
the  Grand  Duke,  and  from  thence  went  to  one  of  our 
principal  Indian  settlements  in  the  capacity  of  gover- 
nor, where  his  skill  and  courage  in  war,  his  justice 
and  wisdom  in  the  civil  departments,  and  his  univer- 
sal benignity  and  amiable  manners,  conciliated  the  na- 
tives, appalled  the  enemy,  and  raised  the  glory  of  his 
country  to  such  a  height  as  consoled  her  well-wishers, 
,  and  silenced  the  murmurs  of  faction,  ever  prone  to 
If'mk  heroic  actions,  while  it  loves  to  dwell  on  the  mis- 

VOL.  I.  F 


56  THE   REFUSAL. 

deeds  of  those  who  scandalize  the  British  name  by  in- 
justice and  treachery.  All  this  corresponded  with  Lady 
Selina's  confession,  that  he  had  been  long  absent;  but 
who  could  the  lady  be  to  whose  baseness  England 
might  be  said  to  owe  her  hero  ?  Certainly  it  was  not 
her  beloved  aunt ;  she  was  all  honour  and  fidelity.  It 
was  impossible  for  her  to  behave  scandalously  to  any 
one,  and  as  she  admitted  Lord  Avondel's  excellence 
it  was  evident  there  could  be  no  mistake  on  this  occa- 
sion. 

Probably  then  (for  when  complete  information  was 
denied,  Emily  could  only  reason  upon  probabilities) 
Lady  Selina  was  the  chosen  friend  of  Lord  Avondel, 
and  as  such  treasured  his  memory,  and  lamented  his 
wrongs,  though  her  own  resignation  of  the  world  pro- 
ceeded from  some  other  cause.  True,  it  was  singular, 
that  among  the  many  anecdotes  of  distinguished  peo- 
ple with  which  she  enlivened  their  evening  tete-a-tetes 
she  had  never  told  her  the  history  of  this  injured  wor- 
thy ;  especially  as  it  was  of  such  publicity  that  her 
uncle  seemed  to  wonder  she  had  never  heard  it. — 
Doubtless  her  dear  aunt  .had  excellent  reasons  for  her 
silence,  yet,  whatever  they  were,  Emily  felt  all  know- 
ledge was  vain  and  unattractive  compared  to  the  nar- 
rative of  the  wrongs  which  "  this  first  and  best  of 
men"  had  suffered  from  a  woman. 


[  57  ] 


CHAPTER  III. 


"  Tis  not  the  dress  or  mien  my  soul  adores, 
"  But  the  rich  beauties  of  a  British  mind." 

Shenstone. 

THOUGH  Miss  Mandeville  had  by  this  time  dis- 
covered, that,  either  owing  to  forgetfulness,  or,  as 
some  would  say,  to  great  poetical  powers,  (for  a  cer- 
tain coarse  word  must  never  be  applied  to  the  commu- 
nications of  a  lady)  the  narratives  of  Lady  Mackin- 
tosh were  not  strictly  correct,  not  always  so  much  alike 
as  to  enable  one  to  discover  she  was  talking  of  the 
same  people  whose  adventures  she  had  painted  a  week 
before  in  different  colours,  she  could  not  help  apply- 
ing to  her,  as  an  historian  would  to  old  Geoffry  Mon- 
mouth when  every  other  author  was  silent.  But  here 
her  ladyship  also  was  dumb,  though  she  pleaded  igno- 
rance in  such  a  manner  as  convinced  Emily  "  she  could 
a  tale  unfold."  Her  ladvship  was  one  of  those  won- 
der-makers who  are  so  often  met  with  in  society,  and 
who  seem  to  consider  conversation,  "  not  as  the  feast 
of  reason  or  the  flow  of  soul,"  but  as  the  celebration 
ot  an  ancient  game,  where  every  one  contends  who 
shall  shoot  his  arrows  and  hurl  his  quoits  farthest. — 
Like  the  giants  of  old,  they  consider  truth  as  a  Jupi- 
ter, and  pile  Pelion  on  Ossa,  and  Ossa  on  Olympus 
till  they  erect  a  pile  to  defy  its  omnipotence.  If,  to 
avoid  sinking  into  total  insignificance  in  such  companv, 
you  venture  to  sport  what  you  think  a  Patagonian 
bouncer,  they  instantly  create  a  full  grown  Brobdig- 
nag  monster  to  oppose  it,  and  your  pigmy  marvel  at 
last  looks  only  like  Gulliver  on  the  lap  of  Glumdal- 
clitch.  With  the  propensity  to  deal  in  prodigies,  and 
with  such  an  untold  mystery  to  relate,  as  the  story  of 
Va  man  of  sense  and  courage  seriously  affected  by  love, 


58  FHE  REFUSAL. 

what  influence '  more  potent  than  the  rod  of  Hermes 
could  chain  the  voluble  tongue  of  Lady  Mackintosh  ? 

They  know  little  of  the  disposition  of  youth  who 
suppose  its  imagination  is  circumscribed  by  meeting 
with  difficulty  and  opposition.  Sir  Walter  h;;d  begun 
to  expatiate  in  praise  oi  his  friend  .dining  the  first 
week  of  his  niece's  residence  with  him,  but  it  was  not 
till  the  inundation  of  company  had  subsided,  and 
Emily  discovered  that  there  was  something  in  the  story 
which  she  could  not  know,  that  she  gave  up  her  whole 
thoughts  to  muse  on  Lord  Avondel.  The  interest  she 
took  in  his  glory  was  highly  grateful  to  her  guardian, 
who,  by  applying  to  her,  received  correct  intelligence 
when  the  overland  despatches  were  expected.  It  had 
had  lately  been  whispered,  that  in  consequence  of  a 
change  in  administration,  letters  of  recal  had  been 
sent  to  India,  and  Sir  Walter  consoled  the  feelings  of 
the  patriot  by  indulging  those  of  the  friend.  "lie 
will  certainly  visit  me,"  said  the  veteran,  "  if  he  Uvea 
to  come  home,  and  these  old  walls  shall  ring  with  joy 
when  he  enters  my  gate.  I'll  have  an  ox  roasted,  and 
we  will  tap  the  pipes  of  cyder  saved  for  poor  George's 
coming  of  age.  All  the  country  shall  be  called  in, 
and  we  will  go  out  to  meet  him  with  such  a  cavalcade 
as  has  never  been  seen  since  my  grandfather  met  and 
feasted  the  king's  army  after  it  had  beaten  the  duke  of 
Monmouth  at  Sedgemoor.  Girl,  you  shall  see  such 
bonfires  and  hear  such  rejoicing's  !  That's  the  way  we 
old  soldiers  welcome  our  brave  comrades.  We  shall 
talk  over  our  campaigns,  but  pray  don't  you  put  in 
with  foolish  speeches,  for  I  can  tell  you  my  lord  has  an 
utter  aversion  to  ignorant  people." 

Roasting  an  ox,  broaching  pipes  of  cyder,  calling  in 
the  tenants,  and  talking  over  campaigns,  do  not  sound 
like  amusements  which  a  girl  would  prefer  to  Rane- 
lagh  and  the  Opera  :  but  Emily's  education  had  given 
her  somewhat  of  a  romantic  turn,  and  it  is  certain  the 
chance  of  seeing  Lord  Avondel  was  one  unacknow- 
ledged motive  for  her  continuing  so  perfectly  satisfied 
with  her  present  residence.     The   probability-  of  that 


THE  REFUSAL.  59 

desired  pleasure  was  regularly  discussed  in  the  family- 
party  after  the  arrival  of  the  newspapers,  but  these 
faithful  registers,  or  rather  let  me  say  predictors,  of 
events,  never  suffered  hope  and  fear  to  hang  long  in 
equipoize.  One  day  Miss  Mandeville  read  with  ex- 
ulting hope,  "  The  cabinet  council  sat  yesterday  till  a 
very  late  hour.  The  subject  in  deliberation  is  kept  a 
profound  secret,  yet  we  have  learnt  from  high  authority 
that  the  Earl  of  Avondel  is  recalled,  in  consequence  of 
an  arrangement  which  the  premier  has  made  with 
Lord  Lurcher  Rackrent.  A  frigate  is  prepared  to 
take  his  lordship  to  the  settlement,  and  the  ministerial 
influence  in  the  lower  house  will  be  strengthened  by 
the  addition  of  six  boroughs.  The  displaced  noble- 
man is  to  have  the  vacant  blue  ribband  to  bind  up  the 
wounds  of  honour." 

The  next  day's  post  brought  the  following  intelli- 
gence. 

"  We  hear  the  arrangements  respecting  Lord  Avon- 
del's  removal  from  his  viceroyalty  are  suspended  in 
consequence  of  strong  representations  having  been 
sent  over  by  the  principal  inhabitants,  intreating  the 
continuance  of  a  nobleman  whose  conduct  has  reflected 
the  highest  honour  on  his  country  and  himself,  and  in- 
creased the  resources  of  that  important  colony  to  au 
incredible  degree.  We  must  enter  our  protest  against 
bartering  the  safety  of  the  empire  for  ministerial  pre- 
ponderance, and  the  infamous  system  of  close  bo- 
roughs. If  the  events  of  the  Savoir  vivre  are  unpror 
pitious,  Lord  Lurcher  has  still  some  unfelled  woods, 
and  timber  sells  well." 

The  next  week's  intelligence  took  a  shorter  form, 
"  Lord  Avondel's  recall  has  long  been  determined 
upon.  A  magnificent  house  has  been  taken  for  his 
lordship  in  Grosvenor  square,  which  is  preparing  for 
his  immediate  reception." 

In  a  few  more  posts  appeared  an  alarming  article  : 
"  Great  fears  are  entertained  for  the  safety  of  the  St. 
'  George  East  Indiaman,  on  board  of  which  the  Earl  of 
$  F  2 


60  THE  REFUSAL. 

Avondel  and  suite  are  known  to  have  taken  their  pas- 
sage for  England." 

The  terrors  of  the  Mandevilles  only  lasted  till  the 
next  day,  when  fear  subsided  into  disappointment  on 
reading,  "  We  are  anxious  to  relieve  the  apprehensions 
of  those  whose  friends  or  relations  embarked  on  board 
the  St.  George,  by  announcing  the  safe  arrival  of  that 
ship  in  the  Downs,  after  an  expeditious  and  prosper- 
ous voyage.  She  brings  no  intelligence  of  Lord 
Avondel." 

It  was  on  the  11th  of  January,  1779,  that  Miss  Man- 
deville  read  with  indescribable  rapture  the  following 
imposing  paragraph  : 

"  Yesterday,  at  a  late  hour,  Sydney  Earl  of  Avon- 
del   arrived    at  *the    Hummums,  after   an    absence  of 
twenty  years  from  his  native   country.     A  vast  con- 
course of  people  assembled  to  testily  their  admiration 
of  his  eminent  services,   and  to  gratify  their  curiosity 
by  gazing  on  so  distinguished  a  personage.      But  with 
that  elevated   modestv  which  always  accompanies  su- 
perior merit,  his  lordship  eluded  observation,  and  after 
gracefully  bowing  to   the  -populace,  who  greeted   him 
with    three    cheers,  he   retired  to  an  inner  apartment. 
The  hotel  was  watched  till  a  late  hour,  but  his  lordship 
was  not  visible,  and  it  is  suspected  he  is  gone  into  the 
country  to  avoid  those  distinctions  which  his  deserved 
popularity  must  acquire  in  an  age  so  destitute  of  really 
great   men.      We  were  fortunately  near  the   carriage 
when   his  lordship  alighted,   and  are    happy  to  report 
that  the  fatigues   and  dangers  he   has  undergone   have 
not  injured    his  personal   appearance.     His  fine  figure 
and  elegant  deportment  enabled  us  tb  recognize  him  at 
the  first  glmce.     Without  meaning  to  reflect  upon  our 
contemporaries  we   must  do  ourselves  the  justice   to 
say,  that  disregarding  all  floating  surmises  and  vague 
reports  we  have   given  the  earliest   and  most   correct 
information  concerning  the  course  which  ministers  in- 
tended to  pursue  with  this  celebrated  nobleman." 

As  Emily  was   hastening  to  announce,  that  at  last 
the  truth  was  known,  she  met  her  uncle,  whose  couu- 


THE  REFUSAL.  §1 

tenance  was  illuminated  with  a  flush  of  extraordinary 
ijoy  which  he  had  great  difficulty  in  restraining,  while 

Emily  read  the  above  paragraph.  Before  she  had  con- 
i  eluded,  he  snatched  the  paper  out  of  her  hand,  and 

with  a  hearty  curse  on  the  lying  dog  of  a  printer  who 
:flew  from  India  to  England  backwards  and  forwards 
i  faster  than  a  cannon  ball,  vowed  such  trumpery  should 
i  never  enter  his  doors  again.  He  then  gave  his  niece 
;  a  letter  with  this   exclamation,  "  See   girl,   this  from 

himself,  'tis  the  very  writing  of  the  real  Avondel." 

u  Falmouth,  January  9th,  1779. 
"  Dear  Mandeville, 
"  The    inquiries  of  an  alienated  exile    on  revisiting 
I  his  native  country,  generally  suggest  the  most  painful 
|  sensations.     The  wandering  life  I  have  long  led  has  of 
Hate  years  prevented  me  from  forming  strong   attach- 
ments  and  I  now  find  most  of  my  early  friends  either 
i  dead,  or  changed  in  situation  and  character  in  a  degree 
that  must  prevent  me   from  renewing  those  dear  con- 
nections the  image  of  which   has  so  often  solaced   mv 
'wounded  mind.      Amid  the  melancholv  or  disgraceful 
details  which  I  have  heard  since  my  arrival  of  those  I 

I  once  loved,  it  has  given  me  infinite  satisfaction  to  find 
i  that  my  brave  friend  and  companion  in  arms,  Colonel 

Mandeville,  now  sees  his  well-earned  laurels  flourish 
in  the  venerable  mansion  of  his  ancestors,  and  still  re- 
tains all  his  native  warmth  of  heart,  his  unpretending 
integrity  and  benevolence.  Convinced  it  is  your  first 
wish  to  make  others  happy,  I  congratulate  you  on  pos- 
sessing the  power. 

"  You  are   the   same  Mandeville  as  when  first  you 
won   my  confidence   and   esteem,  but    I    am   only  the 

iwreck  of  Avondel.  I  landed  at  this  place  ten  days 
ago,  with  a   determined   resolution   to  devote   the  re- 

imainder  of  my  eventful  life  to  privacy  and  reflection. 

II  have  seen  enough  of  public  measures  and  public 
;men  to  confirm  the  sentence,  that  vanity  and  vexation 
jever  attend  high  desires.  Shall  I  accuse  the  species, 
ipi  which  I  form  a  part,  of  universal  ingratitude  and 


52  THE  REFUSAL. 

treachery,  or  shall  I  say  that  some  malignant  fatality 
has  ever  haunted  my  steps,  and  taught  me  to  seek  for 
my  reward  in  the  feelings  of  conscious  rectitude,  ra- 
ther than  in  the  attainment  of  those  objects  on  which  I 
had  fixed  my  ardent  wishes  ? 

"  Do  not,  Mandeville,  call  this  frank  avowal  of  my 
present  sentiments,  a  muffled  drum  sounding  a  dead 
march  over  defunct  ambition.  The  greatest  favour 
administration  could  confer  upon  me  was  my  recall.  I 
love  retirement,  my  health  requires  serious  attention  to 
recover  the  injuries  it  has  suffered  from  unwholesome 
climates.  I  have  been  overwhelmed  with  ceremony, 
deafened  with  adulation  ;  henceforth  I  shall  live  to 
myself.  I  trust  I  shall  be  excused  from  personal  at- 
tendance in  London.  My  secretary  can  tell  ail  I  have 
done,  if  the  state  in  which  I  have  left  the  settlement  I 
governed  requires  any  comment.  He  also  can  deve- 
lope  my  future  plans,  should  my  successor  deign  to 
inquire  what  they  were.  The  formality  of  a  court 
life  is  insupportable,  and  I  scorn  to  accept  any  reward. 
You,  honest,  noble-minded  Walter,  will  not  blame  me 
if  I  own,  that  though  my  patrimonial  estate  was  very 
inadequate  to  my  rank,  I  close  my  active  career  in  the 
sinie  honourable  poverty  in  which  it  was  commenced. 
I  have  not  despoiled  the  golden  musnuds  of  India,  the 
mines  of  Golconda  have  not  soiled  my  hands,  nor  will 
I  now  barter  the  riches  of  an  independent  soul  for 
wealth  purchased  by  unprincipled  submission  to  the 
transient  pageants  of  power,  or  by  a  similar  opposition 
to  the  measures  of  those  who  direct  the  helm  of  state. 
That  steady  integrity  which  has  hitherto  directed  my 
course,  shall  ever  be  my  leading  star.  I  have  enough 
for  honourable  privacy,  for  philosophical  ease,  for  cir- 
cumspect benevolence.  An  unconnected  man  must  be 
avaricious  if  he  desires  more. 

"  I  find,  Mandeville,  you  still  continue  one  of  that 
free  and  happy  fraternity,  who,  being  accountable  to 
no  tribunal  but  the  laws  of  their  country  and  the  re- 
bukes of  conscience,  laugh  at  the  long  stories  of  hopes 
and  fears,  promises   and  rebukes,  doubts  and  disap- 


THE  REFUSAL.  63 

pointments,  which  compel  married  men  to  be  fortune- 
i  hunters  and  levee-hunters,  blind   idolaters  of  insolent 
.importance,  or  dumb  slaves  to  female  caprice,  vanity, 
and  folly.     The  subject  animates  me,  for  it  recalls  to 
imy  mind  the  evening  previous  to  the  glorious  day  of 
JVIinden,  when  we  mounted  guard  together,  and  when 
vou  relieved  the  anxious  tediousness  of  that  night  by 
i«   lively  euiogium  on  the  superior   advantages  of  our 
idestiny  compared  with   those    who  felt  the   immortal 
!  longings  of  the  hero  repressed  by  apprehensive  terrors 
(for  indigent  widows  and  destitute  orphans.     If,  while 
preparing  our  minds   for  a  speedy  termination  of  our 
mortal   career  in  the  field  of  honour,  we  felt  it  as  an 
alleviation  of  our  lot  to  consider,  that  we  had  no  near 
i  connections  to  suffer  for  us,  should  we  turn  cowards 
inow  and  shrink  from  the  idea  of  a  life  passed  in  soli- 
Itude,  without  one  being  to  stimulate  our  exertions,  ex- 
cite our  hopes,  or  mitigate  our  woes  ?   Have  we   de- 
voted our  youth,  strength,  health,  and  talents,  to  be- 
come insulated  creatures,  of  whom  fame  talks  largely, 
but  affection  is  silent  ?  If  there  was  error  in  the  choice, 
rrepentance  comes  too  late.  We  will  preserve  ourselves 
from  ridicule  by  never  believing  that  we  can  excite  af- 
fection, and  if  we   are  not  happy  we  will  assume  the 
decency  of  content. 

**  I  know  not,  Mundeville,  whether  the  vacant  life 
of  a  country  gentleman  have  made  you  as  much  a 
philosopher,  as  confinement  on  ship-board,  and  six 
months  of  inaction,  have  made  me  a  misanthrope,  or 
whether  you  still  continue  the  cheerful  blunt  fellow  you 
were  when  I  visited  vou  in  the  hospital  at  Ravensburg  ? 
Without  allowing  me  to  mention  your  own  sufferings, 
■you  then  only  asked  me  the  fate  of  your  comrades, 
and  the  movements  of  the  enemy  after  that  successful 
effort  of  British  courage.  If  time  has  done  much  to 
chill  the  noble  ardour  of  your  heart,  fortune  has  been 
equally  busy  in  deepening  the  susceptibilities  of  mine.  I 
shall  winter  at  Bath,  having  been  advised  to  try  the 
teffect  of  those  salutary  waters.  I  trust  you  will  soon 
fjoin  me  there.     We  shall  meet  as  fellow  soldiers  used- 


'64  THE  REFUSAL. 

to  hard  conflicts,  and  still  called  to  contend,  not  with 
the  enemies  of  our  country,  but  those  domestic  ty- 
rants that  invade  the  little  kingdom  of  man  ;  I  mean 
those  proud  regrets  and  keen  sensibilities  which  tell  us 
we  deserved  a  happier  lot.  Farewel  much  respected 
Mandeville. 

"  Believe  me, 

"faithfully  your's, 

"  Avondel." 

There  are  young  ladies,  pretenders,  too,  to  preci- 
sion, enthusiasm,  and  tenderness,  who  would  have 
found  all  their  admiration  of  a  returning  hero  subside 
on  perusing  such  an  indubitable  testimony  of  his  being 
poor,  neglected,  ill,  and  unhappy.  But  Miss  Mande- 
ville was  not  one  of  those  who  require  the  nodding 
plumes  and  velvet  train  of  prosperity  to  designate  me- 
rit. Her  compassionate  tears  fell  over  those  bursts  of 
wounded  feeling  which  reluctantly  spoke  a  dejected 
heart.  And  grasping  Sir  Walter's  hand,  she  exclaim- 
ed, "  dear  uncle,  what  can  be  done  to  reconcile  Lord 
Avondel  to  the  world?"" 

"i^h,"  exclaimed  the  sympathizing  veteran,  drawing 
his  hand  over  his  moistened  eyes,  "  you  cannot  make 
the  world  good  enough  to  satisfy  such  a  mind  as  his.  I 
wish  you  had  seen  him,  Emily,  when  he  rode  up  to 
Lord  Granby's  quarters,  and  asked  leave  to  use  his 
sword  in  the  allied  army.  He  was  the  finest  looking 
gentleman  I  ever  beheld  ;  but  there  was  much  of  deep 
thought  and  melancholy  in  his  countenance.  He  sup- 
ped with  Prince  Ferdinand  that  night;  we  had  him  af- 
terwards at  our  mess.  Sometimes  he  would  sit  quite 
silent,  and  the'n  burst  out  in  such  a  manner!  No  man 
ever  had  so  much  wit,  and  when  h<e  has  kept  the  table 
on  a  roar  for  several  hours,  I  have  whispered  him, 
1  Avondel,  my  dear  boy,  I  think  you  must  have  felt 
happy  this  evening.'  "  No,  Captain  Mandeville,'  he 
would  say,  '  gaiety  is  a  loose  domino,  and  I  play  the 
fool  in  it,  but  misery  is  my  every  day  garb,  and  I  can- 
not throw  it  off.' " 


THE  REFUSAL.  65 

Emily  sobbed  with  pity,  and  at  last  observed,  that 
;  as  she  had  heard  her  uncle  praise  the  unbounded  bene- 
1  volence  of  his  friend,  surely  his  own  melancholy  must 
lhav«  been  relieved  by  dispensing  comfort  to  the  afflict- 
ied. 

"  I  have  seen   him,"  said  Sir  Walter,  "  start  from 

the  straw  on  which  he  has  lain,  supporting  an  expiring 

soldier,  and   heard  him  declare  he  envied  the   brave 

1  fellow.     '  Death,1  said  he,  '  in  its  most  dismal  shape, 

lis  not  so  terrible  as  a  life  of  disappointment." 

"  Surely,"  replied  Emily,  "he  has  never  yet  met 
with  any  one  who  has  felt  sufficient  veneration  of  his 
exalted  character  to  attempt  the  removal  of  the  thorn 
which  thus  corrodes  his  peace.  I  cannot  form  so  in- 
I  consistent  an  opinion  of  the  possessor  of  such  superior 
(talents,  such  refined  sensibility,  such  active  generosity, 
as  all  ascribe  to  Lord  Avondel,  as  to  suppose  that  he 
would  continue  brooding  over  his  secret  disgusts  if  he 
had  at  hand  some  one  whose  tenderness,  sympathy,  and 
solicitude  would  shew  him  his  own  value,  and,  by 
grieving  at  his  dejection,  stimulate  him  to  forget  past 
wrongs  and  look  forward  to  future  hopes.  How  I 
wish  he  had  early  married  such  a  woman  as  my  aunt 
Selina.  She  would  certainly  have  made  him  as  happy 
as  he  is  illustrious. " 

"  True,"  said  Sir  Walter,  "  he  would  not  then  have 
envied  the  dying  soldier."  "  My  love,"  whispered 
Lady  Mackintosh,  "you  don't  know  every  particular 
of  your  aunt's  character." 

A  profound  silence  ensued,  which  was  broken  by  Sir 
Walter's  declaring  that  Avondel  should  not  die  of  a 
broken  heart  at  Bath.  "  I'll  go  myself,"  added  he, 
"  and  fetch  him  to  the  castle.  The  doctors  say  the 
spring  in  Marlton-moor  is  quite  as  good  as  that  at  the 
pump-room.  We  will  all  turn  m  rses,  and,  Emily, 
you  shall  try  to  make  him  forget — Pshaw,  I  know  not 
what  I  am  talking  of.  Onlv  never  mention  that  per- 
verse fantastical  aunt  of  your's  to  anv  of  us.  I  never 
heard  a  soul  but  yourself  speak  well  of  her." 

,     A  deep   suffusion  flushed   Emilv's  cheeks,  but  the 

ft  l 


66  THE  REFUSAL 

fierce  look  of  her  uncle  was  too  intimidating  to  allow 
her  to  vindicate  the  character  she  most  esteemed.  She 
now  felt  convinced,  that  there  had  been  some  violent 
discord  between  her  two  nearest  surviving  relations, 
which,  though  her  placid  aunt  had  entirely  renounced 
it,  still  rankled  in  the  move  obdurate  heart  of  her  un- 
cle, and  was  too  tenaciously  supported  by  old  preju- 
dice to  yield  to  any  think  but  actual  observation.  She 
knew  if  he  would  but  become  acquainted  with  Lady 
Selinahe  must  either  confess,  that  he  was  mistaken  in 
her  character,  or  that  she  had  undergone  a  complete 
change  since  he  first  believed  her  to  be  perverse  or 
fantastical. 

Lady  Mackintosh  now  busied  herself  in  endeavour- 
ing to  prevent  Sir  Walter's  intended  invitation.  This 
lady  was  one  of  those  rare  characters  who,  upon  being 
admitted  to  an  intimacy  with  a  family,  never  rest  till 
insinuation,  contrivance,  pretty  starts  of  caprice, 
whispers,  and  other  instances  of  adroit  management, 
they  obtain  its  whole  direction;  and  reduce  the  osten- 
sible agents  to  mere  puppets,  twisted  into  the  desired 
attitude  by  the  management  of  secret  strings.  Now, 
though  Sir  Walter  Mandeville  believed  himself  to  be 
made  of  the  same  immoveable  stuff  as  Atlas,  'tis  cer- 
tain he  seldom  ordered  a  dinner,  or  asked  a  party,  but 
in  exact  conformity  to  the  taste  and  pleasure  of  his  ex- 
pert governess,  in  whose  hands  he  was  little  more  than 
a  living  automaton.  On  two  points,  however,  he  pre- 
served his  original  tenacity.  One  was  his  attachment 
to  Emily,  and  the  other  his  resolution  to  console  his 
old  ft iend.  In  vain  did  her  ladyship  hint  the  strange 
conclusions  which  the  world  would  form  from  his 
bringing  a  soldier  of  broken  fortunes  to  his  house, 
while  it  was  the  residence  of  his  declared  heiress.  In 
vain  did  she  enlarge  on  the  respect  due  to  received 
opinions,  in  vain  urge  that  tenderness  to  the  unhappy 
should  never  teach  us  to  forget  prudence  to  ourselves, 
or,  as  a  last  resource,  intimate  that  chariness  for  her 
own  character  wpuld  necessitate  her  to  be  a  less  fre- 
quent visitor  at  the  castle,  while   Lord  Avondel  was 


THE  REFUSAL.  67 

there,  who,  for  aught  she  knew,  might  be  quite  a  man 
of  gallantry.  Sir  Walter  stood  firm,  or  rather  conti- 
nued faithful,  to  the  first  impulse  which  he  had  re- 
ceived from  his  supreme  directress  ;  for  sorry  am  I  to 
observe,  that  her  ladyship's  opinions  were  apt  to  vary. 
Since  the  perusal  of  Lord  Avondel's  letter  she  had 
conceived  an  incurable  prejudice  against  the  conqueror 
of  the  Mahrattas,  whose  return  she  once  proposed  to 
celebrate  with  a  fete  champetre.  She  ever  held  the 
plain  robe  of  honourable  poverty  unbecoming,  and  she 
thought  the  man  poor  indeed  in  mind  as  well  as  in  purse, 
who  could  neither  find  gold  nor  diamonds  in  India, 
nor  take  the  rational  way  of  procuring  places  and  pen- 
sions in  England.  And  she  supposed  die  best  thing  a 
person  so  unfit  for  society  couid  do,  would  be  to  die  at 
Bath  of  the  melancholy  regret  which  he  ought  to  feel 
at  having  lost  such  fine  opportunities. 

Finding  Sir  Walter's  hospitable  intentions  were  not 
I  to  be  shaken,  her  ladyship's  anxiety  tor  her  dear  Emi- 
I  ly  induced  her  to  conquer  her  abhorrence  of  red-coats, 
which  had  almost  led  her  to  behave  like  Gay's  country 
maiden  in  his  moral  to  the  fable  of  the  tame  stag.  She 
told  Sir  Walter,  that  if  he  would  introduce  so  danger- 
ous an  acquaintance  to  his  niece,  the  only  way  of  pro- 
tecting her  reputation  from  the  sarcasms  of  the  censo- 
rious, would  be  to  have  some  discreet  lady  who  knew 
the  world,  and  was  not  very  young  always  with  her. 
Every  quality  she  described  suited  herself  so  exactly, 
that  Sir  Walter  instantly  guessed  her  meaning,  and  ex- 
pressing his  hope  that  she  would  have  the  goodness  to 
undertake  the  office.  Lady  Mackintosh  paused  a  mo- 
ment, recollected  the  four  families  of  which  her  dear  Sir 
Jeremiah  had  made  her  step-dame,  and  at  last  consi- 
dering that  their  feuds  were  too  inveterate,  and  their 
dispositions  too  untractable  for  her  to  comroul  with 
success,  she  determined  to  leave  them  to  p<  ck  at  each 
other  like  a  brood  of  game  chickens,  and  to  forsake 
Dunswood,  that  scene  of  all  her  former  h  ppiness,  and 
even  the  mausoleum  of  Sir  Jeremiah,  where  she  had 
'just  planted  clematis  and  eglantine.    Every  thing  was 

VOL.  I.  G 


68  THE  REFUSAL. 

thus  happily  adjusted.  Sir  Walter  set  off  to  fetch  Lord 
Avondel,  and  Lady  Mackintosh  was  established  at 
Mandeville  Castle  in  the  capacity  of  chancellor  of  the 
court  of  decorum. 

Sir  Walter  was  absent  but  a  few  days.  He  return- 
ed to  announce  that  he  had  with  much  difficulty  pre- 
vailed on  his  friend  to  accept  the  invitation.  Emily 
now  began  to  doubt  the  rectitude  and  delicacy  of  those 
sentiments  which  had  induced  her  to  take  so  warm  an 
interest  in  the  fate  of  a  stranger.  She  had  no  respect 
for  Lady  Mackintosh,  yet,  if  she  could  judge  of  the 
world  by  report,  it  contained  many  people  of  her 
stamp,  who  would,  like  her,  discover  sinister  views  in 
the  most  disinterested  designs,  and  subject  that  con- 
duct which  resulted  from  pure  admiration  and  generous 
pity  to  such  opprobrium  as  would  stamp  indelible  dis- 
grace on  her  character.  Was  it  indeed  necessary  that 
she  should  have  a  perpetual  companion  to  act  as  the 
guardian  of  her  fame  ?  Good  Heaven !  what  could 
have  made  her  affect  or  avow  sympathy,  solicitude,  and 
tenderness,  for  a  hero  ? 

She  now  reconsidered  every  point  of  view  in 
which  Sir  Walter  had  placed  his  friend's  character. 
Was  he  not  more  terrifying  than  amiable  ?  keenly  sus- 
ceptible of  injuries,  fully  conscious  of  desert,  pene- 
trating and  inflexible,  gloomy  from  indulged  habit,  and 
gay  by  an  occasional  self-derogating  constraint,  avow- 
edly prejudiced  against  the  fair  sex,  yet  treating  them 
with  that  condescending  politeness  which  indicated  his 
respect  for  his  own  reputation  ?  Such  errors  or  mis- 
fortunes, call  them  by  which  name  you  please,  must 
render  the  great,  the  glorious  Avondel  a  less  desirable 
companion  than  those  inferior  people  who  are  destitute 
of  his  talents  and  virtues,  but  more  regardful  of  the 
just  claims  of  others. 

Yet  still  he  was  great  and  glorious.  Curiosity  is  a 
potent  motive  ;  and  admitting  that  the  phcenix  was  a 
phenomenon,  there  was  a  vast  pleasure  in  looking  at 
what  all  the  world  was  talking  of.  She  only  wished  she 
could  see  him  and  hear  him  talk,  without  being  exposed 


THE  REFUSAL.  69 

to  his  penetrating,  and  too  probably  uncandid,  observa- 
tion.    She  regretted  the  embarrassing  mystery  which 
•seemed  to  subsist  about  her  aunt,  as  it  prevented  her 
from  mentioning  their  expected  visitor  in  her  letters, 
or  asking  for  the   benefit  of  Lady   Selina's   prudent 
,  counsels.     It  was  not  from  any  doubt  of  the  rectitude 
and  honour  which  she  had  so   long   experienced   that 
1  Emily  practised  this  forbearance,  but  it  was  a  recollec- 
ition  of  the  distress  which  the  discovery  of  the  picture 
had  excited,  that  determined  her  to  avoid  awakening- 
similar  emotions.    Time  would  discover  whether  there 
was  any  affinity  between  the  sorrows  of  these  elevated 
characters,  and  she  resolved  to  behave  with  the  most 
guarded  caution,   not  only  to  the  earl,  but  also  to  her 
I  fair  guardian,  of  whose   friendship  and  prudence  she 
entertained  a  very  low  opinion. 


[  ro  3 


CHAPTER  IV. 


Prospero. — Were  lie  not  something-  stain'd 
With  grief  (that  beauty's  canker)  thou  might'st  call  him 
A  g-oodly  person. 

JVEranda. — I  might  call  him 
Something  divine,  for  nothing  natural 
I  ever  saw  so  nobie.  Shakespeare. 


THE  morning  at  length  arrived  which  was  to  intro" 
duce  the  long-talked-of  visitor,  and  Sir  Walter  ushered 
in  breakfast  by  observing,  "  Now,  Emily,  you  will  see 
a  real  hero :  but  mind,  I  have  promised  my  lord  you 
shall  not  be  troublesome." 

"Sir?" 

"  Mind  what  I  say,  I  told  Avondale  I  would  not 
deceive  him.  Two  ladies  lived  with  me,  but  they  were 
not  every-day  people.  I  said  you  were  a  good  girl, 
and  respected  and  admired  him  very  much  ;  but  that 
you  were  not  one  of  that  sort  who  would  want  him  to 
trot  about  the  plantations  with  you,  or  to  parade  him 
round  the  neighbourhood.  I  told  him  you  talked  lit- 
tle, did  not  laugh  loud,  and  gave  yourself  no  flighty 
airs  to  catch  those  coxcombs  who  teach  women  to  think 
us  made  to  be  monkey -keepers  ;  but  that  I  had  found 
you  a  good  nurse,  and  had  taught  you  to  play  back- 
gammon." 

"  I  trust,"  said  Lady  Mackintosh,  "  you  did  equal 
justice  to  mv  character." 

"  I  told  him,"  replied  Sir  Walter,  with  a  significant 
bow,  "  that  I  wished  I  had  known  you  twenty  years 
ago,  when  you  were  a  very  fine  woman." 

"  I  admire  your  frankness,"  answered  the  lady. — 
"  It  was  kind  to  apprize  his  lordship  that  no  attack 
was  intended,  for  as  the  poet  sings,  *  Cupid  flies  from 
tresses  hoar.' " 


THE  REFUSAL.  71 

The  baronet  was  too  much  engrossed  with  the 
scheme  of  his  own  preparations  to  reply.  "  I  shall 
receive  him  in  great  state,"  said  he  ;  "  the  tenants 
have  set  out  to  meet  him,  and  dinner  shall  be  served 
in  the  banqueting  room,  with  a  band  of  music  playing 
in  the  stone  gallery.  You,  Emily,  must  be  full  dres- 
sed, with  all  your  jewels  on  ;  and  remember,  my  lord 
is  a  very  fine  gentleman  ;  nothing  forward  or  finical 
will  do,  you  must  do  the  honours  of  the  house  quite 
easily  and  gracefully,  without  colouring  and  trembling 
as  if  you  had  never  seen  any  body  but  your  nurse. — 
He  has  been  used  to  the  first  courts  in  Europe,  and 
all  the  grandeur  and  magnificence  of  the  East.  Pie  is  the 
king  of  courtesy,  and  I  want  you  to  look  like  the 
queen." 

"  What  a  task  have  I  undertaken,"  thought  Emily, 
as  she  prepared  for  this  formidable  reception.  "  I 
protest  I  will  never  more  pity  a  hero,  or  long  to  gaze 
on  a  blazing  star."  Her  trepidation  was  not  diminish- 
ed by  Lady  Mackintosh  observing,,  that  she  was  attir- 
ed for  conquest.  "  'Tis  well,"  added  she,  "  that  I 
had  no  designs.  My  simple  vestments  could  not  at- 
tract one  look  when  eclipsed  by  such  a  blaze  of  splen- 
dour and  beauty.  Dear  creature,  what  a  tremor  you 
are  in.  I  own  your  uncle  is  very  alarming,  but  I  will 
support  you.  As  I  live,  the  cavalcade  is  coming 
down  the  avenue.  When  it  enters  the  porter's  ward 
the  band  is  to  strike  up,  4  See  the  conquering  hero 
comes,'  and  you  are  to  walk  out  of  the  saloon,  follow- 
ed by  all  the  ladies,  and  the  earl  is  to  wait  at  the  fold- 
ing doors  opposite  the  grand  entrance  to  be  introduced 
in  form, — quick,  quick,  you  wont  be  in  time." 

Emily  had  three  times  arranged  and  displaced  her 
feathers,  and  at  last  fixed  them  in  the  most  unbecom- 
ing position.  She  broke  the  clasp  of  her  bracelet, 
forgot  one  of  her  sleeve-knots,  and  entered  the  saloon 
in  a  tremor  just  as  the  trumpets  and  clarionets  began 
to  play.  She  had  scarcely  time  to  take  her  prescribed 
station  when  Sir  Walter  advanced  with  an  air  of  inex- 
pressible satisfaction,  and  introduced  a  gentleman  in. 

g2 


yo  THE  REFUSAL. 

the  uniform  of  a  general,  adorned  with  several  milita>- 
ry  and  diplomatic  orders.  An  air  nobly  majestic,  a 
manner  peculiarly  graceful,  and  a  countenance  which, 
notwithstanding  the  cadaverous  hue  of  sickness,  spoke 
■with  sublime  expression  a  feeling  and  exalted  soul, 
announced  that  this  was  the  earl  of  Avondel. 

His  introductory  address  to  Emily  was  equally  flat- 
tering and   refined.     He  spoke   of  his  impatience   to 
thank  her  for  her  goodness  to  his  most  valued  friend: 
nor  did  he  then  hurry   from   her  with  the  air  of  one 
who  has  said  a  fine  thing.     He  seemed  to  wait  her  re- 
ply, and  it  was  not  till  he  perceived  she  was  incapable 
of  making  one,  that  he  left  her  to  recall  her  scattered 
thoughts,  and  moved  round  the  circle  shewing  himself 
to  be  as   expert  in    versatile    politeness  as  in  the  more 
energetic  language  of  peculiar  esteem.      He  then  plac- 
ed Ills  chair  near  Emily,  and  conversed  with  that  res- 
pectful ease  and  general  attention  which  soonest  van- 
quish too  timid  delicacy.    Sir  Walter  rubbed  his  hands 
in  ecstacy,  nodded  significantly  to  his  old  neighbours, 
and  smiled  at  their  wives  and  daughters  with  a  sort  of 
silent  bustle  which  indicated  the  difficulty  he  had  to 
restrain  his  own  raptures,-  and  his  unwillingness  to  di~ 
\  crt  the  attention  of  the  company  from  the  wonder  he 
had  introduced.     Admiration  soon  succeeded  to  terror 
in  the  mind  of  Emily,  while  she  considered  how  dif- 
ferent Lord  Avondel's  manner  was  from  any  she  had 
ever   been    accustomed    to.     "  Other   men,"    thought 
she,    "by   officious   gallantry,  study   to   display    their 
<;wn  attainments,  but  the  compliments  of  Lord  Avon- 
del  inspire*  me  with  self-respect.     Certainly  he  is  the 
first  and  best  of  men.     O  shame  upon  an   unthankful 
world  that  he  is  not  the  happiest." 

The  ease  of  general  conversation  which  this  "  king 
of  courtesy"  contrived  to  substitute  for  that  apprehen- 
sive reserve,  which  thirty  years  ago  predominated  in 
country  parties,  gave  Miss  Mandeville  new  opportuni- 
ties of" admiration.  As  his  attentions  were  every  thing 
but  oppressive  or  presumptuous,  she  had  ventured  to 
observe  his  features,  as  well  as  his  words.     Time  had 


THE  REFUSAL.  f$ 

given  his  appearance  all  the  grandeur  of  manly  digni- 
ty, but  slightly  marked  with  symptoms  of  approaching 
decay.  His  eyes  beamed  with  the  keenest  intelligence, 
and  they  seemed  to  derive  additional  lustre  from  the 
furrows  of  reflection  deeply  engraven  on  his  brow.— 
The  general  expression  of  his  countenance  was  thought- 
ful majesty,  but  a  smile  lighted  it  up  into  ineffable  be- 
nignity. She  fancied  he  often  suppressed  a  sigh  from 
a  kind  determination  not  to  check  the  hilarity  his  pre- 
sence inspired,  or  abate  the  delight  of  his  host,  whose 
looks  continually  repeated  with  exultation,  "  This  is 
the  man  who  saved  my  life." 

"  I  wonder,"  thought  Emily,  "  how  with  so  much 
innate  grandeur  he  has  contrived  to  infuse  so  much 
frankness  and  vivacity  into  our  party.  We  were  all 
trembling  with  awe  before  he  entered,  and  now  all  but 
myself  are  quite  comfortable.  I  wish  I  durst  speak 
to  him,  he  will  think  me  an  absolute  fool.  Surely  he 
cannot  be  uncandid,  he  cannot  put  such  harsh  con- 
structions on  the  effect  of  true  simplicity  as  my  uncle 
intimates." 

The  day  closed,  and  Emily  still  continued  wishing 
but  unable  to  remove  the  unfavourable  impressions 
which  she  felt  assured  her  reserve  must  make  on  her 
noble  guest.  Indeed,  if  she  could  have  subdued  her 
own  terrors,  the  fixed  attention  of  Lady  Mackintosh 
would  have  chilled  her  presumption.  Even  when  she 
retired  to  her  own  apartment,  hoping  to  ruminate  at 
leisure,  that  mirror  of  propriety,  faithful  to  her  duty 
of  duenna,  glided  after  her  to  develope  her  sentiments 
concerning  the  stranger,  "  This  is  extremely  imperti- 
nent," thought  Emily,  "  but  I  will  be  guarded." 

"  I  hope,  my  love,"  inquired  her  ladyship,  "  your 
expectations  concerning  our  noble  inmate  are  quite  an- 
swered ?" 

"  Perfectly  so,"  returned  the  young  lady,  with  an 
air  of  nonchalance  to  mislead  sagacity. 

"  And  you  do  think  him  the  most  wonderful  won- 
der of  wonders  that  ever  was  wondered  at  ?" 

"  Yes,  the  very  greatest." 
1/ 


74  •        THE  REFUSAL. 

"  What  a  discerning  young  creature,"  said  her  la- 
dyship laughing.  "  But  Sir  Walter  has  seen  very  little 
of  the  world,  and  is  so  fond  of  the  extraordinary." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  your  ladyship." 

"  The  earl  is  very  high,  but  a  phoenix  you  know  is 
allowed  to  be  proud.  Do  you  think  him  so  very,  that 
is,  superlatively  handsome  ?" 

"  Proud,  handsome  !  I  did  not  much  observe  him, 
madam." 

"  O,  Miss  Mandeville,  is  this  candour  and  since- 
rity ?" 

A  bright  thought  shot  into  Emily's  mind  to  turn 
the  tables  on  her  persecutor.  "  If  I  did  look  at  him 
often,"  said  she,  "  you  must  abide  the  result  of  a 
severer  scrutinizer  than  I  am,  for  I  protest  he  was 
always  gazing  on  your  ladyship." 

"  Piqued,  by  all  that  is  fretful,"  thought  the  fair 
widow,  not  much  displeased  at  having  the  observation 
she  had  already  made  thus  confirmed  by  the  jealousy 
of  a  rival.  "  My  love,"  said  she,  pressing  Emily's 
hand,  "  you  know  he  might  as  well  be  gazing  on  the 
cold  splendour  of  the  watery  moon.  Come,  you  only 
rally  ;  I  heard  the  elegant  compliments  he  addressed 
to  you." 

"  As  the  relation  of  his  fellow  soldier,  madam ;  I 
am  not  the  vain  self-important  girl  to  suppose,  that  so 
awkward  a  novice  as  I  know  I  appeared  to  day  could 
have  any  independent  claim  to  the  compliments  of  a 
man  like  Lord  Avondel.  He  saw  me  the  niece  of  Sir 
Walter  Mandeville,  and  every  mark  of  respect  he 
paid  me  was  a  delicate  tribute  to  friendship." 

u  Delicate  tribute  to  friendship  !  Such  a  man  as 
Lord  Avondel !  This  young  creature's  heart  is  in  a 
fine  way,"  thought  Lady  Mackintosh  ;  "  ladies  of  her 
stamp  of  character  always  grow  more  kind  in  their 
expressions  as  they  intend  to  be  more  provoking." 
"  Why,  I  confess  my  dearest  love,"  said  she,  "  I  nev- 
er saw  you  appear  to  so  little  advantage,  nor  so  ill 
dressed,  as  to  day.  You  coloured,  and  stammered, 
and  fluttered  your  fan,  instead  of  carelessly  playing 


THE  REFUSAL.  J" 5 

with  it,  thus.  And,  as  the  poet  said,  the  feast  was  sold 
not  given,  for  instead  of  twice  pressing  the  guests  to 
eat,  had  it  not  been  for  me  every  body  would  have  sat 
with  empty  plates.  I  don't  mean  to  distress  you,  but 
indeed  you  never  answered  Mr.  Cheerly  when  he 
asked  you  to  take  wine,  and  you  sent  turtle  to  Sir 
Humphrey  Cramwell  without  one  morsel  of  green  fat. 
I  was  very  sorry  for  the  poor  girls,  knowing  he  would 
go  home  out  of  humour,  and  one  of  them  said  she  was 
sure  you  were  not  well.  But  I  will  go  there  with  you 
to-morrow  and  make  an  apology. 

"  It  will  save  him  one  oath,"  returned  Emily, 
"  when  the  gout  pays  him  its  next  visit.  But  indeed 
you  must  bear  the  blame.  Your  manner  and  appear- 
ance so  struck  Lord  Avondel,  that  he  was  continually 
taking  up  my  attention  with  questions  about  you,  and, 
to  frustrate  any  hope  he  might  have  formed.  I  at  last 
told  him,  that  though  in  compliment  to  the  day  you 
had  cast  off  your  weeds  of  woe,  and  appeared  all  ease 
and  gaiety,  you  were  absolutely  inflexible  on  the  point 
/  of  a  second  attachment." 

11  Oh,"  said  Lady  Mackintosh,  relapsing  into  the  do- 
lorous, "  I  could  not  help  thinking  as  I  sat  at  table, 
how  different  Sir  Walter's  present  idol  is  from  that 
friend  I  shall  ever  deplore.  Sir  Jeremiah's  was  true 
humility,  true  good  nature.  He  had  no  artifice,  no 
stately  hauteur.  He  never  strove  to  seem  above  every 
body  else.  Good  night,  sweet  Emilv,  peaceful  be  thy 
slumbers.  Alas !  my  thoughts  will  be  in  the  mauso- 
leum." 

Miss  Mandeville  almost  wished  her  person  there 
also,  as  she  secured  her  door  against  any  further  intru- 
sion than  the  very  unpleasant  reflections  her  faithful 
friend  had  introduced  respecting  her  embarrassment. 
It  grieved  her  that  it  had  actually  been  observed  by 
the  company.  Yet  none  but  very  illiberal  people  could 
think  it  extraordinary,  that  a  young  lady  bred  in  re- 
tirement should  feel  distressed  at  playing  the  hostess 
on  so  public  an  occasion,  and  for  the  avowed  purpose 
ft  of  doing  honour  to  a  man  of  Lord  Avondel's  celebrity 


76  THE  REFUSAL. 

and  nice  discernment.  If  the  hero  of  the  day  still  pos- 
sessed great  personal  attractions,  he  was  at  least  old 
enough  to  be  her  father ;  and  is  a  man  of  forty-two, 
neither  gay  nor  fortunate,  so  very  irresistible,  or  was 
she  so  prompt  to  love,  that  no  cause  but  a  wish  for 
conquest  could  be  assigned  for  the  confusion  of  a  girl 
of  twenty,  heiress  to  many  thousands  ?  For  the  first 
time  in  her  life  she  wished  to  know  how  many,  and 
whether  they  were  equal  to  the  support  of  a  very 
splendid  establishment  ? 

She  then  veverted  to  the  remainder  of  Lady  Mack- 
intosh's observations.  ,  Were  pride  and  craft  so  con- 
spicuous in  Lord  Avondel  as  to  be  discerned  by  a  shal- 
low observer,  and  yet  appear  to  her  in  the  commenda- 
ble form  of  dignity  and  wisdom  ?  His  superiority  was 
so  indisputable  that  it  seemed  not  even  to  require  the 
support  of  defensive  warfare.  It  was  evident  he  could 
not  receive  information  from  any  of  the  company,  yet 
occasionally  he  played  the  listner's  part  with  a  grace 
which  proved  he  saw  no  danger  in  condescension.  He 
introduced  no  topic  with  a  view  to  self  aggrandizement 
or  display,  and  highly  grateful  as  his  attentions  were 
to  those  who  received  them  he  seemed  more  anxious 
that  no  one  should  be  pained  by  his  disregard.  Proud 
men  are  fond  of  flattery.  If  Lord  Avondel  were 
proud  how  abundant  was  his  caution  and  self  com- 
mand, for  he  received  every  compliment  with  such 
noble  negligence,  that  neither  his  words,  look,  nor 
manner  showed  he  regarded  praise.  Emily  however 
remarked,  that  whoever  had  been  very  particular  or 
happy  in  their  eulogiums  received  from  him  in  the 
course  of  the  evening  some  appropriate  and  elegant  re- 
turn, or  was  allowed  an  opportunity  of  appearing  in  a 
favourable  point  of  view.  What  discrimination  and 
discernment  did  such  behaviour  evince  ?  Compare  him 
to  Sir  Jeremiah  Mackintosh,  absurd  !  'Twas  plain  such 
a  woman's  remarks  were  not  worth  regarding. 

"  And  yet,"  said  Emily,  "  he  is  not  happy,  'lis 
rankling  grief,  not  time,  that  has  engraven  those  deep 
furious   on  his  awful   brow.     With   every  amiable. 


THE  REFUSAL.  77 

every  exalted  quality  he  is  wretched.  What  must  the 
■world  be,  if  even  an  Avondel  could  not  pass  through 
it  without  enduring  the  shipwreck  of  his  peace  ?  My 
dear  aunt  Selina,  too,  with  all  her  virtue  and  goodness, 
is  unhappy.  Is  sorrow  the  unavoidable  lot  of  great 
talents  and  strong  feeling?  O  that  I  could  shelter  my 
orphan  head  in  safe  obscurity  !  What  wretched  com- 
panions shall  I  find  ignorance  and  susceptibility." 

She  now  recollected  the  picture  she  had  seen  at  Lime 
Grove,  her  view  of  it  was  very  transient ;  it  represent- 
ed a  man  in  the  bloom  of  youth,  ruddy  with  health, 
and  animated  with  joy  and  hope.  Time  and  change  of 
circumstances,  added  to  indisposition,  must  have  made 
such  an  alteration  that  the  picture  could  no  longer  re- 
semble the  original.  The  expression  in  the  eyes, 
however,  was  similar,  and  so  peculiar,  that  she  more 
than  ever  wished  to  know  her  aunt's  early  history. 

Sir  Walter's  exuberant  joy  was  as  troublesome  to 
him  as  her  perplexity  was  to  Emily,  and  alike  indis- 
posed him  for  sleep.  They  met  early  in  the  breakfast 
room.  The  enthusiasm  of  the  baronet  acted  as  a  pow- 
erful panacea  to  cure  all  his  maladies,  and  he  fought 
over  his  old  battles  with  unusual  vivacity.  He  soon 
came  to  the  never  wearying  tale  of  his  own  preserva- 
tion, and  had  just  lifted  the  sword  of  the  Bavarian  of- 
ficer when  his  champion  entered.  Emily's  eyes  were 
filled  with  tears,  and  her  uncle  was  not  sufficiently  at- 
tentive to  the  scruples  of  delicacy  to  avoid  explaining 
their  source.  But  the  polished  earl  spared  her  blushes, 
by  not  perceiving  anv  compliment  to  himself,  while  he 
warmly  commended  the  piety  which  made  her  thus  af- 
fected at  recollecting  the  danger  of  her  guardian.  He 
intreated  Sir  Walter  to  avoid  a  subject  which  her  ten- 
derness could  not  bear.  To  overcome  the  cry  of 
"  No,  no,  'tis  not  so,"  which  the  good  baronet  loudly 
vociferated,  he  entered  into  military  details  which  soon 
engrossed  the  attention  of  his  old  companion  in  arms. 
The  Havannah  was  taken,  and  the  heights  of  Quebec 
scaled,  in  description,  till  the  war-worn  soldiers  forgot 
\/   that  they  had   any  female  auditors  j  and  Lady  Mack- 


78  THE  REFUSAL. 

intosh,  provoked  that  the  battery  of  a  new  morning 
dress,  mounted  for  the  occasion,  had  done  no  execu- 
tion, whispered  Emily,  that  it  would  look  improper  if 
they  staid  too  long  with  the  gentlemen.  But  Sir  Wal- 
ter had  no  mind  that  they  should  retire.  A  project 
had  taken  possession  of  his  imagination,  and  with  him, 
the  very  "firstlings  of  his  thoughts  always  became  the 
firstlings  of  his  hand." 

"  Why,  my  lady,  why,  Emily,  you  are  not  going  to 
run  away  from  us,  so  pleased  as  you  are  to  hear  about 
battles  and  sieges  ?  I  assure  you,  Avondel,  that  girl  is 
in  her  heart  a  soldier.  She  has  listened  for  hours  to 
my  account  of  the  campaign  of  59,  when  you  had  a 
command  in  the  second  brigade,  and  she  can  repeat  by 
heart  the  despatch  you  sent  to  England  at  the  conclu- 
sion of  the  Mahratta  war." 

"  I  highly  respect  the  patriotic  spirit  of  the  ladies," 
returned  Avondel,  "  but  if  they  honour  our  pursuits 
with  their  attention,  justice  requires  we  should  not  be 
so  self-engrossed  as  to  trespass  on  their  social  claims. 
May  I  have  the  happiness,  Miss  Mandeville,  of  at- 
tending you  on  your  morning  excursion." 

Emily,  recollecting  her  uncle's  interdiction  against 
trotting  a  hero  round  the  plantations,  or  parading  him 
among  the  neighbours,  was  silent. 

"My  sweet  friend,"  said  Lady  Mackintosh,  "suf- 
fers from  the  recollection  of  some  minute  oversight 
yesterday,  and  proposes  calling  on  the  friends  she  has 
displeased  by  way  of  concession."  She  then,  in  the 
kindest  manner  imaginable,  informed  Sir  Walter  of 
his  niece's  mistakes  and  negligencies.  Unquestionably 
she  had  no  intention  to  check  his  exuberant  good  hu- 
mour, and  she  owned  it  was  conjectured  that  her  dear 
love  was  dying  with  the  head-ach.  But  the  hospitable 
Baronet  was  peculiarly  irritable  on  this  subject ;  for  as 
one  of  his  grand  objections  to  the  society  of  ladies 
was,  that  they  limited  good  cheer  and  circumscribed 
conversation,  by  expecting  it  to  be  addressed  to  them- 
selves, so  he  tolerated  their  company  when  they  were 
frank  and  unassuming,  and  not  only  covered  the  board 


THE  REFUSAL.  79 

with  plenty,  but  pressed  "the  mantling  goblet  and  the 
rich  repast"  on  the  diffident. 

"  And  has  Emily  affronted  any  of  my  friends  ?"  in- 
quired Sir  Walter. 

"  Not  absolutely  affronted.  Come,  you  must  not 
be  so  warm ;  the  dear  timid  creature  is  sufficiently 
pained  by  her  own  feelings." 

Lord  Avondel  observed,  that  in  an  affair  so  truly 
arbitrary,  it  was  much  to  be  lamented  an  ingenuous 
mind  should  abandon  itself  to  the  impression  'of  pain- 
ful feelings.  **  The  conclusion  I  drew  from  Miss  Man- 
dev  die's  behaviour,"  said  he,  "  was,  that  the  style  of 
hospitality  I  so  much  admired  at  the  European  courts 
I  have  visited  had  happily  been  imported  into  England 
during  my  absence,  and  banished  that  ostentatious  im- 
portunity which  for  ever  reminds  us  that  we  are  visi- 
tors. In  the  first  circles  on  the  continent  you  sit  with 
the  same  ease  as  by  your  own  fire-side.  The  only  dan- 
ger is,  that  as  you  enjoy  all  the  comforts  of  home,  it 
is  possible  you  may  omit  some  of  those  expressions  of 
gratitude  to  your  entertainer  which  the  ceremonious 
intreaties  of  some  English  ladies  continually  remind 
you  are  expected  by  way  of  payment." 

Sir  Walter  looked  at  Lady  Mackintosh,  and  observ- 
ed there  was  good  sense  in  my  lord's  observation.  Her 
ladyship  answered,  that  she  could  not  assent  to  a  sys- 
tem which  condemned  the  mistress  of  the  house  to  act 
the  part  of  nobody  in  her  own  family. 

"  Much  depends  en  the  manner  in  which  a  case  is 
stated,"  said  Lord  Avondel."  Suppose  we  sav  she 
sits  with  the  benignant  serenity  of.  a  goddess,  and  re- 
ceives the  voluntary  homage  of  those  who  enjoy  her 
bounty." 

"  Is  it  an  unfair  inference,"  inquired  the  lady,  "  to 
ask,  if  your  lordship  means  to  represent  Miss  Man- 
deville  as  the  Goddess  of  Devonshire  r" 

•*  My  creed,"    rejoined   the   earl,  "  rejects  all  local 

divinities,  it  equally  abhors  all  undue  humiliations  and 

painful    penances;  and  I  deny  the   necessity    of  Miss 

\/   Mandeville's  practising  supererogatory  acts  of  conde- 

I  .       vol.  1.  11 


80  THE  REFUSAL. 

scension.  I  flatter  myself  that  such  friendship  and 
sensibility  as  you  possess  must  be  gratified  by  hearing, 
that  what  your  fears  deemed  an  omission  really  was  a 
happy  refinement." 

Lady  Mackintosh  doubted  whether  the  earl  was 
a  man  of  superior  discernment,  or  only  ironical; 
while  Emily  thought  she  should  in  time  be  quite  at  ease 
in  his  company.  "  He  is  all  benignity,  all  goodness 
to  me,"  was  the  remark  which  she  made  on  this  con- 
versation. "  He  takes  care  that  I  shall  not  be  oppress- 
ed, either  by  his  own  commendations  or  the  unkind- 
ness  of  others.  Would  I  had  such  a  protector !  how 
safe  should  I  be  under  the  guidance  of  so  much  wis- 
dom and  goodness." 

Sir  Walter  took  an  early  opportunity  of  sounding  his 
friend  on  the  project  to  which  I  have  already  alluded. 
He  determined  to  lead  the  conversation  to  Emily  in 
rather  an  oblique  way,  and  expressed  his  gratitude  for 
the  verv  great  care  and  affection  which  Lady  Mackin- 
tosh shewed  her.  Lord  Avpndel  answered  dryly, 
that  their  attachment  did  indeed  seem  very  extraordi- 
nary. 

"•  But  Emily  is  a  very  extraordinary  girl,"  was  Sir 
Walter's  reply.  "  Considering  how  few  opportunities 
she  has  had  of  improving  herself,  I  assure  you  she  is 
very  clever.  She  knows  nothing  but  what  she  has 
learned  from  me  and  her  ladyship.  Her  fortune  is  now 
four  thousand  a  year:  besides,  I  have  declared  her 
my  heiress." 

Lord  Avondel  continued  silent. 

"  We  think  her  tolerably  handsome,"  said  Sir  Walter. 
The  earl  only  said  he  did  not  consider  himself  a  good 
judge  of  beauty. 

The  baronet  resumed.  u  She  has  however  the  beau- 
tics  of  the  mind,  and  I  am  certain  she  will  make  a  ve- 
rv valuable  wife  ;  for  I  must  own  I  am  an  altered  man 
since  she  has  lived  with  me,  and  a  happier  too,  though 
she  limits  me  to  a  pint  of  wine,  and  has  the  ragouts 
spoiled  that  I  may  not  eat  of  them.  She  has  almost 
broken  me  too  of  being  in  a  passion,  for  I  cannot  bear 


THE  REFUSAL.  81 

to  see  her  look  miserable.  I  begin  to  think  you  and  I 
were  too  harsh  when  we  gave  up  women  to  the  devil 
without  any  exceptions." 

"  Don't  make  me  a  party  in  your  imprecations,  Man- 
devilie." 

"  Well,  well,  you  looked  what  I  spoke.  But  I  was 
thinking  as  you  now  mean  to  fix  in  England  I  should 
advise  you  to  marry." 

"  Nothing  would  so  much  enforce  your  advice  as 
your  setting  me  the  example." 

"  Pshaw,  I  am  not  in  jest,  you  are  twenty  years 
vounger  than  I  am,  and  neither  maimed  nor  crip- 
pled." 

"  Except  in  my  mind  and  fortune." 

"  Well,  a  good-tempered  wife  with  an  ample  dower 
would  repair  those  maladies.  I  tell  you  again  I  am 
serious,  and  I  wonder  a  man  of  your  good  sense  and 
courage  should  never  have  sufficient  resolution 
to" 

"What?" 

4<  Tear  a  worthless  woman  from  your  heart." 

Avondel  started;  he  struggled  for  self-command, 
yet  could  only  say,  "  Avoid  that  subject."  A  pause 
ensued  ;  the  well  meaning  Mandeviile  blamed  his  own 
temerity,  and  pressing  the  eari's  hand,  begged  his 
pardon. 

"  You  have  taken  me  by  surprise,"  said  the  earl. 
"  It  is  not  my  heart  but  my  memory  which  prevents 
me  from  enjoying  peace.  I  am  not  the  puling,  slave  oi 
love,  but  keenly  sensible  of  my  early  wrongs.  As  a 
proof,  I  have  forborne  to  make  any  inquiries  after  the 
person  to  whom  you  allude.  I  know  not  whether  she 
exist.  I  hope  never  more  to  hear  her  name  ;  yet  I 
owe  her  an  obligation.  She  shewed  me  her  fickle  sex 
in  its  most  consummate  duplicity,  and  thus  taught  me 
to  avoid  their  snares;  I  have  never  been  deceived 
since." 

**  She  was  the  only  woman  in  the  world  who  could 
have  used  vou  basely." 

"  And   also  the  onlv  one  whose  conduct  could  rive 


82  THE  REFUSAL. 

me  pain.  But  she  had  many  advantages  to  second  her 
innate  power  of  tormenting.  I  was  young,  sanguine, 
credulous.  It  was  a  first  attachment;  I  had  a  thou- 
sand romantic  ideas  of  paradisaical  bliss.  Mercenary 
match-makers  would  have  said  I  conferred  an  obliga- 
tion. There  was  a  simplicity,  a  purity,  an  aln'iost  su- 
pernatural sweetness — Walter,  I  cannot  bear  to  think — 
I  am  not  always  thus  puerile.  My  return  to  England 
has  suggested  ideas  of  happiness,  of  domestic  bliss"— 

41  Which  might  still  be  yours  r" 

"  Say  how  ?  you  think  my  fortunes  desperate,  but  I 
never  can  consent  to  espouse  'One  of  those  archetypes 
of  idiotism  or  deformity,  whom  fortune  perches  on  a 
golden  pedestal,  to  attract  the  mercenary  devotees, 
who  call  avarice  love,  and  then  wonder  that  they  are 
wretched..  My  wife  must  have  many  recommenda- 
tions besides  possessing  sufficient  acres  ior  my  mainte- 
nance. She  must  have  generosity  to  approve  my 
frankness,  for  if  ever  I  form  an  honourable  connec- 
tion, the  basis  on  my  side  must  be  the  most  unreserv- 
ed and  unqualified  confidence." 

"  Weil,  blow  yourself  up  if  you  please,  only  suppose 
yourself  a  lover." 

u  You  must  first  find  me  a  woman  with  such  wealth 
as  mv  wants  require,  and  sufficient  merit  to  engage  me 
in  the  task  of  wooing  her  with  some  wish  of  being 
successful." 

"  I  think  all  this  very  possible." 

"  Suppose  me  then  giving  a  decent  air  to  my  bank- 
rupt fortunes  and  shattered  figure,  the  shadow  of  my 
former  self.  Conceive  me  studying  to  be  agreeable, 
and  courting  her  society  till  we  were  sufficiently  ac- 
quainted for  me  to  hazard  my  proposals,  without  ap- 
pearing impertinent." 

Sir  Walter  rubbed  his  hands.  "  All-  very  well,  my 
dear  Lord,  now  for  your  proposal." 

"■  It  requires  some  effrontery  to  state  the  prelimina- 
ries even  to  you.  The  lady  must  possess  youth, 
wealth,  personal  agreeableness,  elegant  manners,  a 
placid  temper,  a  superior  understanding,  (rated  on  the 


THE  REFUSAL.  33 

female  scale)  an  improved  taste,  and  a  liberal  heart. 
She  must  also  have  a  decided  preference  for  me.  I 
will  then  tell  her,  that  I  have  encumbered  mv  patrimo- 
nial estate  by  heedless  acts  of  private  partiality  and 
public  munificence,  by  which  I  have  made  myself 
many  implacable  enemies,  who  hate  the  giver  and  deny 
the  gift.  I  will  tell  her  loo,  that  as  nature  has  unfitted 
me  for  the  tool  of  a  minister,  or  the  herald  of  faction, 
my  fortunes  are,  as  respects  myself,  irremediable.  I 
will  tell  her  the  fatigues  I  have  undergone  and  the  in- 
salubrious climes  I  have  inhabited  ;  that  I  have  engen- 
dered many  diseases  which,  though  thty  do  not  indi- 
cate early  death,  presage  a  more  insupportable  evil,  a 
joyless,  unthankful,  unvalued  life.  And  I  will  finish 
my  recommendatory  address  with  saying,  that  the  soul 
to  which  this  fabric  is  attached  is  fretted  by  a  long  un- 
availing contest  with  injury  and  neglect,  that  I  am  dis- 
gusted with  the  world  and  dissatisfied  with  myself.  I 
shall  doubtless  succeed  in  persuading  this  young,  amia- 
ble, affectionate  imaginary  to  pass  a  life  of  solitude, 
chagrin,  and  solicitude  with  such  a  misanthrope.  The 
scheme  is  feasible,  Mandeville.  Find  me  the  woman 
who  will  be  proof  to  this,  and  I  will  make  her  the 
faithful  partner  of  all  mv  cares." 

The  blank  look  of  disappointment  which  Lord 
Avondel  gradually  introduced  into  Sir  Walter's  coun- 
tenance deepened  into  despair  before  he  finished  his 
description,  and  with  a  peevish  "  pshaw"  the  baronet 
added,  that  he  would  reconcile  any  old  maid  in  the 
kingdom  to  celibacy  by  such  a  style  of  courtship. 
u  But,"  said  he,  4<  Avondel,  you  never  shall  persuade 
me  that  this  is  your  right  and  true  self.  Who  that  saw 
you  the  other  day  all  life  and  spirits,  when  the  room 
rang  with  your  praises,  and  the  heads  of  all  you  spoke 

I  to  were  turned,  would  suppose   you  to  be    a  bankrupt 
bashaw,  a  melancholy  humourist,  a  crustv  invalid." 
Lord  Avondel  assured  his  friend  that  this  was  really 

1  his  every-day  garb,  and  that  whenever  he  wras  pleasant 
he  had  a  masquerade  suit  on. 

H  2 

// 


84  THE  REFUSAL. 

"  The  disguise,"  added  he,  "  is  painful,  and  I  rejoice, 
my  good  old  friend,  that  you  promise  we  shall  live  in  a 
quiet  domestic  way.  I  shall  lounge  over  your  grounds., 
look  at  your  pictures,  study  the  architecture  of  your 
castle,  and  enjoy  that  indolent  delight  which  I  have 
long  sacrificed  to  the  vain  hopes  of  doing  good  to 
others." 

The  office  of  Cicerone  was  allotted  to  Emily,  who 
now  resolved  to  summon  sufficient  courage  to  convince 
her  illustrious  guest  that  she  was  not  that  rara  avis,  a 
lady  dumb  from  choice.  But  she  soon  found  herself 
in  a  most  polite  manner  sent  back  to  her  original  mo- 
nosyllables. Her  slender  knowledge  of  the  fine  arts 
was  lost  in  the  superior  intelligence  which  she  address- 
ed, and  while  his  lordship  seemed  to  acquiesce  in  her 
criticisms,  he  introduced  opinions  which  corrected  her 
mistakes. 

In  compliance  with  her  uncle's  commands,  she  one 
day  seated  herself  at  her  harpsichord  and  attempted  a 
canzonet,  but  the  conviction  that  she  was  a  very  indif- 
ferent performer,  exhibiting  her  talents  to  a  connois- 
seur, made  her  fingers  weaker  and  her  voice  more  tre- 
mulous. Yet  Lord  Avondel  appeared  to  listen,  leaned 
on  her  chair,  turned  over  the  pages  of  the  music,  prais- 
ed her  taste  in  selecting  from  the  most  approved  mas- 
ters, and  asserted  that  when  she  had  acquired  more 
self-confidence  she  would  be  a  very  pleasing  periormer. 
How  kindly  encouraging,  and  yet  how  nobiy  sincere. 
She  rose  with  exultation  to  oiler  her  seat  to  Lady 
Mackintosh,  who,  with  coy  reluctance,  and  all  that 
prettv  affectation  which  attends  superior  skill,  suffered 
herself  to  be  overcome  by  the  intreaty  of  the  company* 
and  attempted  "  Love's  a  gentle  generous  passion.'' 
But  die  difference  between  real  and  pretended  timi- 
dity is,  that  as  the  former  always  supposes  itself  capa- 
ble of  exercising  more  self  command  than  at  on  emer- 
gency it  finds  possible,  so  the  latter  is  apt  to  forget  its 
disguise  from  the  eagerness  with  which  it  listens  to 
commendation.  Lady  Mackintosh  warbled,  quavered, 
mounted,  sunk,  flourished,  and  introduced  every  grace, 


THE  REFUSAL.  85 

till  she  was  interrupted  by  a  violent  fit  of  coughing 
which  unfortunately  seized  Lord  Avondel.  Water 
was  called  for,  but  the  best  specific  was  the  silence  of 
the  syren.  Every  attempt  to  speak  renewed  his  Lord- 
ship's danger,  and  to  avoid  suffocation  he  was  obliged 
to  change  his  intended  compliment  into  a  most  courtly 
bow.  But  the  paroxysm  had  been  so  oppressive,  that 
it  was  not  till  the  conversation  turned  to  something  very 
different  from  music  that  Lord  Avondel  recovered  his 
powers  of  utterance  ;  and  I  presume  a  man  of  his  high 
breeding  would  have  thought  it  indecorous  to  revive  a 
subject  that  had  been  so  fully  discussed. 

Time  only  served  to  confirm  Miss  Maude ville's  ve- 
neration for  their  guest.  She  saw  elegance  in  all  his 
actions  ;  honour,  dignity,  and  profound  wisdom,  in  his 
sentiments.  With  equal  wonder  and  delight  she  per- 
ceived a  hero  condescend  to  trifle,  and  adopt  that  style 
of  small  talk  which  is  very  unjustly  called  lady's  con- 
versation. But  though  Hercules  held  the  distaff  at 
the  court  of  Omphale,  the  lion's  skin  lay  ready  to  be 
put  on,  while  the  demi-god  gracefully  reclined  on  the 
sofa,  discussing  the  propriety  of  female  ornaments  or 
criticising  the  exercise  of  female  ingenuity.  She  ob- 
served with  pleasure,  that  though  every  common-place 
civility  and  trite  compliment  was  addressed  to  Lady 
Mackintosh,  his  more  refined  attentions  were  paid  to 
herself.  Master  of  every  modification  of  polite  de- 
portment, he  was  never  reduced  to  the  degrading  ne- 
cessity of  being  unpolite  to  avoid  being  insincere.  She 
was  convinced  he  saw  her  duenna's  foibles :  she  was 
persuaded  he  must  dislike  a  character  so  opposite  to  his 
own  ;  but  he  made  no  insidious  attempts  to  betray  her 
to  behave  ridiculously,  a  popular  species  of  wit  since 
known  by  the  name  of  quizzing.  The  effulgence  of 
his  own  social  talents  needed  no  foil  to  increase  their 
lustre.  He  looked  on  envy  and  affectation  with  the 
pity  of  a  superior  mind,  and  he  scorned  to  extort  that 
preponderance  to  which  he  deemed  himself  entitled, 
by  proving  the  bankrupt  state  of  mental  poverty. 
Emily  believed  herself  a  more  important  being  from 


86  THE  REFUSAL. 

having  spent  a  fortnight  under  the  same  roof  with 
Lord  Avondel ;  yet  she  could  not  recollect  any  proof 
of  his  attention  which  age,  dependence^  or  deformity, 
would  not  have  received  from  so  complete  a  gentle- 
man, if  placed  in  her  situation. 

"  And  what,"  said  she  to  herself,  "  should  I  wish 
for  more.  Weak,  vain,  confident  girl  ;  did  I  suppose 
Lord  Avondel  likely  to  be  susceptible  of  my  faint  at- 
tractions !  He  who  his  travelled  from  court  to  court, 
and  seen  whatever  is  great  and  fascinating  in  every 
climate,  was  he  to  preserve  his  heart  from  the  charm 
of  elegance  and  the  lure  of  beauty  to  surrender  it  to  a 
poor  ignorant  country  girl,  awkward  and  unformed  in 
mind  and  person  ;  one  who  blunders  whenever  she 
tries  to  be  grateful,  and  even  renders  herself  more 
disgusting  when  (actuated  by  that  preference  which 
would  else  do  honour  to  her  judgment)  she  attempts 
to  be  very  agreeable  ?  True,  Lord  Avondel  never 
laughs  at  me,  but  then  he  is  too  well-bred  to  laugh  at 
any  one.  If  he  thinks  me  more  to  be  tolerated  than 
Lady  Mackintosh  it  is  because  he  prefers  natural  ab- 
surdity to  artificial." 

Sir  Walter's  conclusions  were  very  different.  He 
narrowly  observed  Lord  Avondei's  behaviour  to  his 
niece,  and  to  his  own  mind  determined  it  to  be  so  very 
lover-like  as  to  promise  success  to  his  project  of -uniting 
the  preserver  of  his  life  with  the  heiress  of  his  for- 
tune. I  must  admit,  the  respectable  veteran  was  so 
much  of  a  novice  in  the  laws  of  gallantry,  that  the 
common  decorums  which  the  habifs  of  polite  life  then 
required  from  polite  gentlemen  to  ladies,  seemed  to 
him  quite  courtship  enough  to  win  the  Empress  Queen* 
TIk  reader  will  also  renumber,  that  I  am  speaking  of 
those  obsolete  times  when  beauty  had  not  been  so  well 
trained  and  disciplined  by  male  nonchalance  as  to  start 
up  at  the  beckon  of  a  distant  partner,  who  dumbly 
signified  that  he  condescended  to  endure  the  fatigue  of 
lounging  by  her  side  down  twenty  couple,  without  dis- 
concerting the  fixed  stupor  of  his  high-bred  melancholy 
by  one  speech  or  smile.     Thirty  years  ago  it  was  not 


THE  REFUSAL.  87 

expected  that  the  leading  men  of  fashion  should  loll 
on  the  ottomans  with  the  self-contemplating  quiescence 
of  an  eastern  sovereign,  while  ladies  of  the  first  dis- 
tinction declared  they  were  dying  to  sit  down  ;  nor  did 
women  of  real  character  allow  these  bashaws,  when 
they  broke  silence,  to  accost  them  with  language  fit 
only  for  the  haram.  It  did  not  forward  the  success  of 
a  virtuous  amoroso  to  talk  of  former  scrapes  and  de- 
bauches, and  a  wife  would  not  send  compliments  to 
her  husband's  chere  amie  without  being  thought  sple- 
netic instead  of  pleasant  and  obliging.  And  though 
Lord  Avondel  did  not  adopt  the  then  country  fashion 
of  flying  alter  the  lady  with  a  chair  for  fear  she  should 
not  be  able  to  see  one,  or  overturning  the  mandarins, 
and  maiming  the  lap-dogs,  through  extreme  eagerness 
to  prevent  a  beauty  from  deranging  the  architecture  of 
her  tete  by  stooping  to  pick  up  her  fan,  he  certainly 
shewed  as  many  attentions  to  Emily  as  would  furnish 
enough  of  the  tender  for  a  dozen  modern  marriages, 
and  to  convince  her  uncle  that  the  sly  girl  had  capti- 
vated the  noble  soldier. 

As  Sir  Walter  had  not  formed  his  military  tactics 
by  the  system  of  Fabius,  it  is  not  surprizing  that  his 
domestic  arrangements  always  marched  in  quick  time. 
No  sooner  had  he  persuaded  himself  that  Lord  Avon- 
del  was  as  much  in  love  as  became  a  man  of  his  under- 
standing, than  he  resolved  to  try  if  his  niece  meant  to 
play  the  very  woman  by  starting  a  few  whims.  He 
might  indeed  have  trusted  to  his  own  penetration,  for 
he  read  enough  of  her  heart  to  discover  her  preference, 
without  extorting  from  her  the  confession  of  a  predi- 
lection, which  (however  commendable)  is  always 
cruelly  distressing  to  female  delicacy  to  acknowledge. 
Miss  Mandeville's  character  was  frank  and  ingenuous, 
equally  ardent  and  steady  in  her  attachments,  and  ti- 
unicl  from  inexperience  and  want  of  self-confidence. 
' Little  address  was  necessary  to  extort  its  bosom  secret 
jfrotn  a  heart  thus  fashioned,  especially  when  the  in- 
Lquirer,  her  respected  guardian,  told  her  he  knew 
iLord  Avondel  admired  her,  and  their  union   was  the 


88  THE  REFUSAL. 

favourite  wish  of  his  heart.  Sinking  on  her  uncle's 
shoulder,  she  welcomed  the  intelligence  with  tears  of 
surprise  and  joy,  and  after  expressing  some  fears  that 
she  never  should  deserve  such  good  fortune,  confessed 
the  whole  happiness  of  her  life  depended  on  Lord 
Avondel.  Then  recollecting  herself,  she  shrunk  with 
terror  from  the  discovery  she  had  made,  and  extorted 
a  solemn  promise  from  her  uncle  not  to  inflict  an  incu- 
rable wound  on  her  delicacy  by  a  premature  discovery 
of  her  affection  to  its  revered  object ;  a  promise  which 
he  readily  gave,  and  they  parted  mutually  satisfied 
with  each  other. 


[  89] 


CHAPTER  V. 


"  It  is  most  just 
"When  women  sue,  they  sue  to  be  denied. 
"  You  hate  me,  you  despise  me  !  you  do  well. 
"  For  what  I've  done  I  hate  and  scorn  myself. 
"  O  night  fall  on  me  !  I  shall  blush  to  death." 

Young. 

THOUGH  Sir  Walter  was  resolved  to  abide  by  the 
promise  which  he  had  given  to  Emily,  he  thought 
there  would  be  no  harm  in  just  sounding  Lord  Avon- 
del,  to  know  how  he  stood  affected.  A  cautious  lover 
might  want  a  little  stimulus,  but  as  to  his  niece's  se- 
cret he  knew  women  always  made  a  parade  about 
those  things,  and  therefore  he  would  be  very  guar- 
ded. 

He  soon  found  a  good  opportunity  for  making  his 
attack,  as  they  enjoyed  the  sunshine  of  a  fine  frosty 
morning  in  one  of  the  southern  apartments.  "  I  don't 
mean,  my  lord,"  said  he,  u  to  ask  for  compliments, 
but  I  must  say  you  are  grown  at  least  twenty  years 
younger  since  you  have  been  with  us."  u  My  health," 
replied  the  earl,  "  is  wonderfully  improved,  thanks  to 
your  early  hours,  salutary  springs,  relaxation  from  bu- 
siness, the  absence  of  physicians,  and  those  tempe- 
rate habits  which  you  sav  your  Emily  has  intro- 
duced." 

"  Your  Emily  has  introduced !"  Very  good,  indeed, 
thought  Sir  Walter.  "  And  I  hope"  said  he,  contin- 
uing his  attack,  "  that  our  society  has  done  you  no 
harm  ;  you  seem  to  enjoy  it.  This  you  know  is  li- 
berty castle,  but  I  observe  that  instead  of  sta\  ing  in  the 
library,  which  you  would  have  all  to  yourself,  or  stroll- 

>    ing  about   alone,  you    are    generally  with    the    ladies. 

//Talk  of  turning   hermit  on  vour  own  estate,  indeed! 


90  THE  REFUSAL. 

why  you  are  more  cut  out  for  a  family-man  than  any 
one  I  ever  saw.  I  always  told  you,  though  I  was  an 
ass  in  company,  you  were  born  for  society." 

"  Will  you  always  insure  me  such  society  as  I  find 
in  Mandeville  castle  V?  "  Yes,"  replied  the  abrupt 
baronet,  "  if  that  would  make  you  happy." 

Lord  Avondel  sighed,  and  was  silent. 

"  On  my  soul,  my  lord,"  continued  his  warm-heart- 
ed friend,  u  I  wish  the  castle  were  yours.  I  never 
should  have  lived  to  possess  it  but  for  you.  You  have 
won  it  by  your  sword,  and  by  heaven  it  shall  be 
yours." 

"  Sir  Walter,  how  rash  and  unjust  !" 

"  No,  not  unjust,  I  tack  a  little  incumbrance  to  it." 

"  My  generous  friend,  I  will  not  affect  to  miscon- 
ceive your  purpose  ;  but  as  you  are  a  man  of  sense 
and  principle,  subdue  this  extravagant  impulse  of  gra- 
titude. It  is  unworthy  of  you  in  every  point  of  view. 
Any  common  trooper  would  have  rendered  you  the 
same  service  which  my  situation  enabled  me  to  per- 
form, and  you  put  an  undue  value  upon  a  chance  ben- 
efit to  require  a  young  lady  to  reward  it  with  such  a 
sacrifice." 

"  A  sacrifice,  Avondel  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  recollect  what  I  have  before  told  you  of  my 
circumstances  and  temper." 

u  But  if  the  girl  thinks  differently  r" 

"  I  will  not  hear  such  a  suggestion.  If  I  were  such 
a  coxcomb  as  to  believe  it  possible  that  the  young  lady 
was  interested  in  my  favour,  I  would  quit  the  castle 
immediately.  I  equally  .abhor  taking  advantage  of 
your  romantic  generosity,  and  of  the  inexperience  of 
an  amiable  heiress.  My  enemies  shall  never  have  the 
opportunity  of  saying,  that  having  vainly  tried  the 
path  of  ambition,  I  found  female  susceptibility  a  surer 
guide  to  opulence,  especially  when  a  sybil  of  twenty 
held  the  golden  bough." 

"  Fine  talking,"  said  Sir  Walter,  swinging  his  foot 
with  a  discontented  air,  "  who  is  romantic  now  t — 
Keep  yourself  poor  and   miserable,  indeed,  to  please 


THE  REFUSAL.  ijl 

the  world,  who  if  you  were  rich  and  gay  would  be 
very  fond  of  you !  I  want  to  know,  sir,  what  objec- 
tions you  have  to  my  Emily  ln 

"  None.  The  point  between  us  is,  she  ought  to 
make  strong  objections  to  me." 

"  Pshaw !  What  if  I  were  to  say — Well  suppose 
she  makes  no  objections  ?" 

"  Again  I  must  peremptorily  forbid  you  to  use  such 
language.  The  delicacy  of  her  manners  convinces  me 
that  she  would  never  volunteer  her  affections,  and  the 
disparity  of  our  years  and  habits  makes  it  impossible 
I  should  be  her  choice  if  she  had  the  liberty  and  the 
power  of  selection.  I  perceive  your  drift,  my  friend  : 
the  whole  proposal  springs  from  your  partiality,  with 
which  Miss  Mandeville  esteems  it  her  duty  to  com- 
ply. She  is  a  prize  to  which  most  men,  circumstanc- 
ed as  I  am,  would  direct  their  attention  ;  but  by  the 
untarnished  honour  of  a  soldier  I  swear,  I  have  be- 
haved to  her  with  the  same  sacred  chariness  of  affec- 
tion as  if  she  had  been  my  daughter.  I  have  attempted 
neither  to  inflame  her  fancy,  nor  to  warp  her  judg- 
ment. I  have  neither  disguised  my  own  faults,  nor 
magnified  her  attractions.  I  have  never  asked  myself 
if  her  fortunes  would  repair  the  waste  of  mine,  and 
her  sympathy  heal  the  wounds  of  my  excoriated  heart. 
I  have  beheld  her  as  an  insulated  being,  fenced  round 
by  every  bond  of  hospitality,  honour,  and  regard  for 
her  future  good  ; — as  one  with  whom  I  could  never 
form  any  tie  but  that  of  friendship ;  and  my  wishes 
for  her  happiness  are  as  pure  from  any  intermixture  of 
self  as  your  own.  I  again  repeat,  if  the  riches  of 
her  ancestors  were  trebled  in  her  portion,  I  would 
not  renounce  the  gratifying  integrity  of  my  present 
feelings,  for  the  degrading  consciousness  that  I  had 
taken  advantage  of  your  attachment  to  me  to  make 
those  riches  mine." 

Sir  Walter,  who  felt  very  indignant  at  what  he  con- 
strued into  a  contempt  for  his  niece,  was  softened  by 
1  this  explanation  ;  and  holding  out  his  hand  as  a  sign 

U       VOL.   I.  I 


92  THE  REFUSAL. 


of  reconciliation  exclaimed,  "  you  are  a  noble   fellow 
Avondel  j  I  don't  know  what  to  make  of  you." 

"  You  shall  make  any  thing  of  me,"  replied  the  earl, 
"  but  an  avaricious  doating  coxcomb,  who  persuades 
himself  that  a  lovely  girl  is  grown  enamoured  of  his 
sallow  visage  and  formal  figure.  If  I  have  now  con- 
vinced you,  that  it  is  not  the  variable  opinion  of  the 
million  but  the  lasting  reproaches  of  my  own  heart, 
that  I  fear,  I  will  not  order  my  chariot,  which  I  was 
on  the  point  of  doing  a  few  minutes  ago." 

The  gentleman  separated,  Sir  Walter,  much  dis- 
concerted, at  perceiving  his  favourite  plan  suspended 
by  an  objection  which,  had  it  been  started  by  any  one 
else,  he  would  have  called  an  artifice  ;  and  Lord  Avon- 
del,  fully  resolved  upon  taking  an  early  opportunity  to 
leave  Castle  Mandeville. 

The  alteration  in  the  behaviour  of  the  gentlemen 
soon  became  apparent  to  Emily.  Sir  Walter  had  lost 
his  exuberant  good  humour  and  hilarity  ;  the  dinner 
became  ill-dressed,  the  claret  tasted  of  the  cork,  he 
rated  his"  butler,  and  kicked  his  old  spaniel  from  the 
hearth-stone.  Avondel"  was  silent,  and  absent,  or 
talked  to  Lady  Mackintosh. 

"  I  am  betrayed,"  thought  Emily,  "  and  rejected; 
I  never  can  survive  this  degradation."  She  took  the 
earliest  opportunity  to  ask  her  uncle,  if  any  thing  had 
passed  between  him  and  Lord  Avondel  ?  Sir  Walter 
at  first  answered,  "  nothing  to  the  purpose  ;"  and  then 
owned  that  he  had  sounded  him,  but  could  make  no- 
thing out  of  him. 

"  How  cruel,"  said  Emily,  "  has  been  your  kind- 
ness, but  I  will  shut  myself  from  the  world  forever. 
You  have  taught  Lord  Avondel  to  despise  me." 

Moved  at  this  unusual  emotion  in  the  gentle  Emily, 
Sir  WTalter  intreated  her  to  be  patient,  and  assured  her 
Lord  Avondel  had  a  high  respect  for  her. 

"  No,  Sir,"  continued  she,  "  I  will  not  be  beholden 
to  his  pity.  Proud  and  magnanimous  as  he  is,  I  will 
not  have  him  persuaded  to  accept  me." 


THE  REFUSAL.  93 

"  No  fear  of  that,"  said  Sir  Walter,  "  the  man  is 
as  stubborn  as  a  mule.     He  will  not  be  persuaded." 

"  And  have  you  stooped  to  intreat  him  ?"  said  Emi- 
ly, "  have  you  offered  me,  sir?  have  you  acknowledg- 
ed my  folly  ?" 

The  baronet  grew  warm,  "  a  pretty  scrape  have  I 
got  into  here  to  be  rated  on  both  sides  !  Plague  on 
your  fine  feelings  and  nice  notions,  say  I.  What  had 
I  to  do  with  them  ;  I  did  not  want  to  marry  myself ; 
and  here  one  raves  because  I  want  to  force  your  in- 
clinations, and  the  other  because  I  cannot  manage 
him.  I  tell  you,  girl,  Lord  Avondel  likes  you  well 
enough,   I  can  see  that,  but  he  wont  marry  you." 

"  Dear  sir,  but  you  have  not  discovered  my  attach- 
ment?" 

"  If  I  had,  I  tell  you  it  would  have  done  no  good. 
The  world  would  say  he  married  you  for  your  fortune, 
and  you  would  see  somebody  you  liked  better,  and  a 
vast  deal  of  high-flown  trumpery,  and  no  sound  rea- 
sons." 

Sir  Walter  p?.l*sed,  and  at  last  exclaimed,  "  'tis  a 
noble  fellow  after  all."  Emily,  'vh°se  indignation  had 
hitherto  suppressed  her  tenderness,  now  burst  h?*» 
tears.  Her  uncle  felt  for  her  distress,  but  like  manv 
impetuous  people,  his  way  of  shewing  compassion 
-was  by  being  out  of  humour.  To  comfort  her,  he 
assured  her  that  she  had  acted  very  imprudently  ;  that 
women  ought  to  wait  till  men  declared  their  intentions  ; 
and  he  concluded  with  lamenting  the  dilemma  in  which 
he  was  placed,  adding  such  an  encomium  on  his  friend 
as  almost  justified  Emily  for  indulging  a  premature 
attachment. 

"  If,"  said  she  to  herself,  "  my  passion  be  but  con- 
cealed from  the  object  of  it,  or  if  he  have  but  great- 
ness of  soul  enough  not  to  despise  me  for  mv  venera- 
tion of  whatever  is  noble  and  good,  I  will'  not  only 
submit  to  his  rejection  with  patience,  but  I  will  feel  a 
sort  of  elevation  on  account  of  that  preference,  which 
'  I  will  ever  cherish.  My  dear  aunt's  fears  for  me  on 
''my  introduction   into  the  world  are  now  obviated 


94,  THE  REFUSAL. 

She  need  not  dread  the  mazes  and  allurements  of  the 
rake  or  the  worldling.  The  heart  that  is  devoted  to 
an  Avondel'is  guarded  against  every  wile,  and  proof 
to  every  temptation.  From  principles  of  exalted  ho- 
nour, he  may  refuse  to  partake  my  fortunes,  but  in 
wish,  in  purpose,  in  entire  devotedness  of  affection,  I 
will  ever  be  united  to  his." 

She  now  considered  what  would  be  the  best  method 
of  confirming  his  delicate:  generosity,  and  at  first  re- 
solved to  assume  a  more  cold  and  distant  manner,  but 
though  she  was  unread  in  tales  of  love,  her  heart  told 
her  this  was  the  behaviour  which  strong  affection  fell 
into  so  naturally  that  it  could  not  be  called  a  disguise. 
She  then  determined  to  be  very  gay,  and  to  flirt  with 
all  the  male  visitors  ;  but  recollecting  that  she 'was  ill 
at  deceit,  she  feared  her  laughs  would  become  hysteri- 
cal, and  her  flirtations  end  in  tears.  Besides,  was  it 
possible  to  impose  upon  a  man  of  the  earl's  penetra- 
tion ?  Could  she  bear  to  degrade  herself  in  his  eyes, 
or  to  lose  the  good  opinion  he  professed  to  entertain  of 
her  sense -and  delicacy,  by  levitv.  f^11  r-^uetrv  ? 

No,  she  would  trnc*  -       -  .  '_"-*"*/' ,  .,,  Y1""      -« , 

rU:i.    ■      L  •— .  «-o  nature  only,  and  if  she  could 

Zl  cxcite  love  would  not  deserve  contempt.  > 

Affairs  continued  in  this  state  a  few  days,  which 
happhy  being  devoted  to  company,  relieved  the  irk- 
someness  of  Emily's  situation.  It  gave  her,  too,  an 
opportunity  of  observing  Lord  Avondel's  behaviour 
when  he  mixed  in  society,  which  presented  the  same 
bold  but  correct  outline.  Whether  the  learned,  the 
polished,  the  upright,  or  the  worthy  came  in  contact 
with  him,  he  still  appeared  better  informed,  more  ele- 
gant, more  disinterested,  more  benevolent.  He  has 
lefused  me,"  said  Emily,  *  yet  still  he  is  the  first  and 

best  of  men."  .  .      c 

The  family-party,  were  standing  round  the  fire  one 
evening,  discussing  the  events  of  a  visit  from  which 
they  had  just  returned,  when  Lady  Mackintosh  blunt- 
ly asked  Lord  Avondel's  opinion  of  the  master  of  the 
house  ;  and  not  satisfied  with  a  general  answer,  inquir- 
ed if  he  considered  him  to  be  a  man  of  penetration. 


THE  REFUSAL.  95 

"  Certainly,"  replied  the  earl,  "  he  is  shrewd  and 
sagacious." 

"  And  did  your  lordship  remark  what  he  said  was 
the  best  way  of  supporting  falling  fortunes?" 

"  It  was  unlucky,"  replied  the  earl,  "  that  I  should 
be  inattentive  to  what  I  might  have  found  useful  infor- 
mation." 

"  O,  I  can  repeat  it.  He  said,  when  a  gentleman 
was  quite  worn  out  by  disappointments  with  one  sex, 
it  was  right  to  direct  his  attention  to  the  other.  No- 
thing is  in  general  so  easy  as  a  matrimonial  specula- 
tion." The  remark  was  sufficiently  easy  to  be  under- 
stood, but  she  pointed  it  by  a  significant  glance  at 
Emily. 

For  the  first  time  since  he  had  resided  at  the  castle, 
Lord  Avondel  was  embarrassed.  He  had  long  dis- 
covered Lady  Mackintosh's  latent  maliciousness,  but 
the  superior  effrontery  of  this  attack  roused  his  resent- 
ment, and  excited  his  surprize.  He  was  too  generous 
to  look  at  the  blushing  and  almost  fainting  Emily  ;  re- 
collecting his  wonted  self-command  he  turned  a  firm 
and  indignant  eye  on  her  tormentor. 

M  And  did  he  not  proceed  to  name  the  star  that 
would  guide  a  diffident  wooer  to  certain  success  ?" 

"  He  left  that  to  the  penetration  of  the  person  for 
whom  his  advice  was  designed." 

"  Trusting,  I  presume,  that  he  was  acquainted  with 
the  story  of  the  Ephesian  matron.  I  will  trouble  you, 
madam,  to  return  my  compliments  with  many  thanks." 

"  My  dear  Emily,"  said  Lady  Mackintosh,  recover- 
ing from  that  sort  of  hysterical  laugh  with  which  she 
always  affected  to  conceal  boiling  anger,  "  you  don't 
seem  to  relish  raillery." 

"  'Tis  because,  said  his  lordship,  still  avoiding  to 
look  on  the  trembling  girl,  "  Miss  Mandeville  fasti- 
diously requires  some  requisites  in  humour  with  which 
your  ladyship  dispenses.  But  I  recollect  why  you  are 
thus  severe  upon  me.  I  promised  you  a  song  this 
morning,  and  I  hope  discharging  my  debt  will  restore 
to  you  your  wonted  attribute  of  mercy."  Emily's  harp 

12 


96  THE  REFUSAL. 

stood  in  the  room  ;  he  flung  his  hand  over  the  chords 
with  a  minstrel's  fire,  which  he  accompanied  with  the 
following  stanzas. 

Woman,  dost  thou  seek  to  gain 

A  captive  worthy  of  thy  sway, 
List  the  minstrel's  holy  strain, 
It  breathe's  not  flattery's  preans  vain, 

But  truth's  severer  lay. 

Warp  not  beauty's  angel  form 

By  affectation's  vile  grimace, 
A  temper  free  from  passion's  storm, 
A  heart  with  gentler  virtues  warm, 

Must  fix  the  triumphs  of  thy  face. 

Tho'  that  face  like  Hebe's  glow, 

Tho'  in  each  act  the  grace's  beam, 
Tho'  o'er  thy  lands  Pac'tolus  flow, 
Tho'  India's  di'monds  gem  thy  brow  ; 

Nor  wealth  nor  beauty  wakes  esteem. 

She  asserts  her  sex's  power 

Who  scorns  by  borrowed  aids  to  shine, 

The  woodland  lily's  pensile  flower 

Transported  from  its  native  bower. 
Shall  round  the  crest  of  glory  twine. 

Lord  Avondel  bowed  to  Emily,  and  contriving 
that  the  same  obeisance  should  civilly  glide  to  Lady 
Mackintosh,  retired  the  moment  he  had  finished  his 
song.  Emilv  was  incapable  of  conversation,  and  Lady 
Mackintosh  too  much  mortified  to  sanction  Sir  Wal- 
ter's encomium  on  his  friend's  vocal  powers.-  He  had 
been  engrossed  by  the  old  bachelor  privilege  of  knock- 
ing out  the  fire  by  way  of  improving  it,  and  did  not 
attend  to  the  previous  altercation,  therefore  he  did  not 
discover  any  peculiar  meaning  in  the  song. 

Miss  Mandeville's  reflections  this  night  were  pecu- 
liarly soothing.  The  earl's  manner  of  supporting  her 
from  Lady  Mackintosh's  coarse  raillery  was  as  delicate 
as  prudery  could  exact,  as  warm  and  generous  as  love 
could  require.  "  Surely,"  she  began  to  think,  "  he 
cannot  be  quite  indifferent  to  me.     If  compassion  to 


THE  REFUSAL. 


97 


me,  or  a  keen  sense  of  indecorum,  prompted  his  se- 
vere rebuke  to  Lady  Mackintosh,  he  need  not  to  have 
obliquely  complimented  me  as  the  drooping  lily.  He 
is  superior  to  the  pitiful  arts  of  male  coquetry.  I 
think  he  does  not  dislike  what  he  has  seen  of  my  cha- 
racter, but  wishes  to  investigate  it  more  clearly  before 
he  commits  his  honour  and  happiness  to  my  trust. 
'Tis  mine  to  shew  him  that  I  can  be  as  firm  as  I  have 
been  precipitate,  and  that  I  silently  model  my  manners 
according  to  his  ideas  of  excellence,  in  time  he  must 
love  me  as  the  reflection  of  himself,  at  least  he  will  if 
he  resembles  other  men.  But  how  difficult  is  it  to  win 
a  heart  which  is  proof  to  all  the  snares  of  selfishness, 
whether  they  assume  the  shape  of  avarice  or  vanity  ?" 

Emily  met  Lord  Avondel  with  unusual  familiarity 
in  the  morning,  but  found  him  stiffened  into  more  in- 
vincible reserve.  Lady  Mackintosh  recollected  that 
she  had  been  defeated,  and  resolved  to  attack  her  ene- 
my now  he  seemed  less  able  to  dispute  the  victory. 

"  I  hope,  my  lord,"  said  she,  handing  him  the  cho- 
colate, w  you  did  not  suffer  from  your  extraordinary 
exertions  last  night.  I  fancy  you  combined  the  old 
characteristic  of  the  minstrel ;  poet  and  musician,  I 
mean." 

"  I  only  sung  a  translation  of  one  of  Lady  Paulina 
Monthermer's  canzonets,  madam." 

"  Indeed,  but  you  gave  it  a  most  superior  effect  by 
your  expression  and  look." 

"  Again  I  must  be  just  to  the  author,  and  affirm, 
that  I  am  not  able  to  give  even  a  faint  idea  of  the 
commanding  influence  this  [composition  received  from 
that  lady's  voice,  manner,  and  person,  when  she  spoke 
it  as  an  impromptu  at  the  Marchesa  Cagliani's  conver- 
zatione." 

"  And  pray  who  is  this  extraordinary  lady  ?" 

M  An  Italian  improvvisatrice,  madam,  but  not  a 
professed  one.  'Tis  a  talent  she  occasionally  exercise* 
to  delight  her  friends.  Her  father  was  a  noble  Flo- 
rentine, and  she  is  now  the  wife  of  general  Monther- 
mer,  head  of  the  military  department,  and  member  of 


98 


THE  REFUSAL. 


the  supreme  council,  at  the  settlement  of  which  I  was 
governor." 

"  Young  and  handsome,  I  suppose  ?"- 

"  Her  appearance  is  still  very  youthful.  Her  mother 
was  a  Greek  lady,  and  Paulina's  features  and  person 
exhibit  that  symmetry  and  commanding  beauty  which 
one  may  suppose  inspired  a  Phidias  and  an  Apelles." 

if  Bless  me,  my  lord,  and  accomplished  too?" 

"  In  the  highest  degree  ;  upon  the  whole,  complete 
mistress  of  every  art  of  fascination." 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  Lady  Mackintosh,  "  we  must 
say,  poor  General  Monthermer ;  such  a  wonderful 
wife  must  be  hard  to  manage,  and  I  think  we  English 
ladies  ought  to  feel  piqued  at  this  decided  superiority 
being  given  to  a  foreigner." 

The  earl  declared  he  was  ready  to  be  judged  by 
Emily,  whether  he  had  said  any  thing  to  pique  a  truly 
English  lady. 

Emily  replied,  that  they  ought  to  respect  his  lordship 
for  being  just  to  merit  of  every  description.  "  If," 
said  she,  "we  may  judge  of  Lady  Paulina  by  the 
specimen  you  have  given  us  of  her  sentiments,  she 
claims  even  higher  commendations  than  those  you 
have  afforded  her." 

Breakfast  being  over  Emily  rose  to  retire.  Avondel 
pressed  her  hand  to  his  lips,  and  with  an  air  of  grave 
respect  thanked  her  for  all  her  goodness  to  him.  How 
unusual  was  this  address.  Confused  and  silent,  she 
followed  Lady  Mackintosh,  who  had  already  left  the 
room. 

"  I  have  a  pu'-nful  part  to  perform,  my  good  friend," 
said  the  earl  to  Sir  Walter.  "  It  is  to  thank  you  for 
your  noble  hospitality,  and  to  bid  you  farewel." 

"  Impos  "    returned  the  baronet,   "you    shall 

not  stir." 

"  My  carriage  waits  at  the  gates.  I  durst  not  trust 
myself  to  your  importunities,  till  I  had  arranged  every 
thing  for  my  departure.  When  I  tell  you  that  impe- 
rious duty  calls  me  hence,  and  whm  I  most  truly  assure 
you  that  the  weeks  I  have  spent  here  have  been  the 


THE  REFUSAL.  99 

happiest  I  have  long  known,  you  will  only  say,  go  and 
do  what  you  ought." 

M  Is  it  public  or  private  business  that  calls  you  from 
us?" 

"  A  mixture  of  both.  I  received  a  despatch  la?t 
night.     You  must  not  urge  me." 

"  But  when  will  you  return  ?" 

"  That  depends  upon  circumstances  I  cannot  com- 
mand. My  affairs  at  Avon  park  call  for  immediate 
inspection,  and  I  fear  they  will  long  require  my  pre- 
sence." 

Sir  Walter  paused,  and  then  exclaimed,  "  what  shall 
I  do  with  my  poor  little  Emily."  Though  he  uttered 
this  rather  as  an  ejaculation  than  by  way  of  asking  ad- 
vice, Lord  Avondel  took  occasion  to  point  out  an  error 
in  his  treatment  of  that  young  lady.  "  She  will  be 
one  of  the  first  fortunes  in  the  kingdom,"  said  he, 
"  and  she  is  now  arrived  at  an  age  when  it  is  proper  to 
form  a  suitable  establishment.  Do  not  therefore  con- 
fine her  from  the  society  in  which  she  ought  to  mix." 

"  Whv,  don't  I  take  her  every  where  ?"  resumed 
the  baronet.  "  The  Mandevilles  'always  lived  splen- 
didly, and  I  keep  open  house.  I  give  dinners  to  the 
hunt,  and  invite  all  the  officers.  We  visit  every  body 
within  twenty  miles,  and  she  goes  to  all  the  concerts, 
races,  and  balls,  my  four  horses  can  drag  her  to.  And 
to  jell  you  the  truth,  one  reason  why  I  have  my  Lady 
Mackintosh  here  is  to  go  out  with  her,  for  she  has  very 
good  health,  and  is  not  afraid  of  having  her  neck  brok- 
en over  our  hills  by  moonlight." 

Lord  Avondel  smiled.  "Transplant  your  fair 
charge,"  said  he,  "  to  London  :  that  is  the  sphere  in 
which  the  heiress  of  two  illustrious  families  must  in 
future  move.  Let  me  add,  suffer  her  to  shine  without 
her  attending  satellite." 

"  Why  Lady  Mackintosh  knows  the  world." 

"  The'  world  is  a  vague  phrase,  my  good  friend,  and 
often  intimates  a  narrow  limit.     Of  this  I  am  persuad- 
ed, Lady  Mackintosh's  world  affords  no  attractions  for 
f  your  good  little  Emily." 


100  THE  REFUSAL. 

"  I  observe,"  Said  Sir  Walter  with  a  sigh,  "  you  and 
her  ladyship  seldom  agree  in  your  opinions." 

"  We  have  moved  in  different  circles,"  replied  the 
earl  coldly,  "  but  let  us  confine  ourselves  to  a  subject 
infinitely  more  interesting,  the  happiness  of  Miss  Man- 
deville." 

"  Pshaw !  Avondel,  that  cannot  be  interesting  to 
you,  or  you  would  not  behave  as  you  have  done." 

"  Sir  Walter,"  returned  the  earl,  would  you  not  think 
it  unjust  to  persuade  your  niece  to  sign  a  deed  which 
transferred  her  estate  to  a  stranger,  without  fully  ap- 
prizing her  of  the  legal  consequences  ?  It  would  be 
still  more  unjust  to  entrammel  her  person  by  an  indis- 
soluble connection,  before  she  had  ascertained  the  ex- 
tent of  her  pretensions,  or  exercised  the  powers  of 
discriminating  between  various  pretenders.  A  fox- 
hunting debauchee,  or  an  adventurer  in  a  red  coat,  wil- 
ling as  they  might  be  to  wed  your  acres,  cannot  offer 
your  niece  a  heart  worthy  her  acceptance.  Even  such 
such  a  one  as  myself  may  deserve  her  preference,  op- 
posed to  such  rivals.  Shew  her  men  of  rank  and  fa- 
shion, of  years,  tempers,  and  fortunes  suitable  to  her 
own,  and  suffer  her  unbiased  judgment  to  decide. 
When  a  chaperon  is  wanted  choose  one  who  has  dis- 
cretion and  address,  not  an  incumbrance  in  the  shape 
of  a  protectress.  The  dowager  of  our  iate  general, 
the  Marquis  of  Glenvorne,  strikes  me  as  one  who 
would  be  a  real  friend  and  able  adviser.  I  knew  her 
and  her  son  at  Florence  ;  you  can  need  no  introduc- 
tion to  her,  and  Miss  Mandeville  will  soon  gain  her 
favour." 

"  Why  our  estates  join,"  exclaimed  the  baronet. 

"  Indeed,"  replied  Avondel,  and  suppressing  a  sigh 
added,  "  that  is  fortunate,  the  young  man  is  worthy 
and  amiable." 

Sir  Walter  now  silently  contemplated  the  figure  he 
should  make  in  London  parties,  and  wishing  for  some 
further  inducements  to  reconcile  him  to  his  own  outre 
appearance,  asked  if  he  should  see  Lord  Avondel  in 
town  r 


THE  REFUSAL.  101 

"  Nothing  can  be  more  uncertain  than  my  destina- 
tion,'1 replied  the  earl.  "  But  cheer  up,  my  brave  ve- 
teran. No  one  is  ridiculous  who  walks  uprightly  in 
the  path  of  duty.  You  have  not  feared  balls  and  bul- 
lets, you  have  stormed  camps  and  castles,  and  are  you 
appalled  at  the  shafts  of  ridicule,  or  afraid  of  the  mis- 
sile deaths  which  lurk  in  the  frowns  of  an  incensed 
dowager  at  a  card-table  when  you  have  lost  the  odd 
trick  ? 

"  I  remember  the  time,"  said  sir  Walter  brightening 
at  his  friend's  raillery,  "  that  this  very  Marchioness 
told  her  friends,  I  might  if  I  chose  be  a  very  fine  gen- 
tleman." 

"  I  fear,"  said  the  earl,  rising,  "  'tis  too  late  in  life 
for  either  of  us  to  change  our  characters,  let  us  then 
endeavour  to  preserve  them  untainted."  He  sighed 
deeply  as  he  spoke,  and  wringing  his  friend's  hand  em- 
phatically exclaimed  ;  "  Fareweli  may  Miss  Mande- 
ville's  sun  rise  auspiciously  and  your's  set  with  tran- 
quillity." 

"  You  will  lenve  us,  then  ?"  said  Sir  Walter.— 
"  Stay  till  I  call  Emily." 

"  I  have  taken  leave  of  her,"  replied  Avondel,  and 
hastily  threw  himself  into  the  chariot. 

This  sudden  departure  produced  universal  dismay  ; 
but  if  Miss  Mandeville  read  in  it  the  destruction  of 
her  newly  excited  hopes,  she  also  received  from  it  a 
confirmation  of  her  long-cherished  passion.  His  part- 
ing advice,  which,  with  his  wonted  frankness,  the 
baronet  communicated  to  her,  exalted  his  character  to 
an  eminence  which  almost  seemed  fabulous.  She 
could  no  longer  hope,  and  scarcely  wished  her  attach- 
ment to  be  concealed  from  its  object,  for  she  felt  that 
her  delicacy  was  safe  in  his  guardianship.  The  adroit- 
ness with  which  he  had  avoided  a  formal  adieu,  which 
must  have  made  her  partiality  more  conspicuous,  the 
concern  he  expressed  for  her  welfare,  the  care  he  had 
taken  to  preserve  her  from  those  improprieties  which 
i  attend  inexperience  at  its  first  introduction  into  the 
//  world,  by  recommending  her  to  an   adviser  of  such 


X02  THE  REFUSAL. 

untainted  reputation  and  fashionable  celebrity  as  the 
Marchioness  of  Glenvorne,  all  argued  such  disinte- 
restedness and  magnanimity,  that  she  almost  wished 
every  sentiment  of  her  heart  were  entrusted  to  his 
consummate  generosity.  "  Surely,"  said  she,  "  he 
is  an  exception  to  the  proverb,  that  men  always  des- 
pise an  easy  conquest." 

Though  her  former  expectations  of  the  pleasures  a 
London  winter  affords,  had  changed  to  indifference,  not 
to  say  disgust,  for  any  scene  in  which  Lord  Avondel  did 
not  appear,  she  determined  to  urge  her  uncle  to  exe- 
cute the  plan  he  had  advised,  with  a  secret  hope  that 
this  compliance  with  her  hero's  advice  would  intimate 
her  entire  devotion  to  his  will.  She  sometimes  thought 
this  excursion  was  proposed  merely  as  a  trial  of  her 
constancy,  and  she  was  willing  to  stake  the  future  hap- 
piness of  her  life  on  the  durability  of  her  attachment. 

If  any  thing  agreeable  was  connected  with  the  idea 
of  her  journey,  it  was  being  delivered  from  the  so- 
ciety of  Lady  Mackintosh,  who  had  been  more  desi- 
rous to  secure  herself  a  future  establishment  and  pre- 
sent accommodation  than  to  prevent  Emily  from 
forming  improper  connections.  Her  zeal  to  prevent 
the  young  lady's  introduction  to  her  uncle  had,  indeed, 
apparently  changed  to  violent  professions  of  attach- 
ment, but  she  always  saw  in  the  acknowledged  heiress 
a  Hushai  come  to  defeat  the  counsels  of  Achitophel. 
The  attractions  of  real  gentleness  and  sincere  tender- 
ness are  never  so  strongly  felt,  as  when  they  are  con- 
trasted with  plausibility  and  over-strained  suavity. — 
Sir  Walter  soon  shewed  a  preference  for  his  good  lit- 
tle girl,  and  the  former  favourite,  discovering  that  the 
present  could  only  be  displaced  by  a  permanent  con- 
nection, craftily  endeavoured  to  betray  her  into  one 
which  would  eventually  degrade  her  in  her  uncle's 
eyes.  The  characters  which  Lord  Avondel  alluded  to 
in  his  speech  to  Sir  Walter,  were  therefore  encouraged 
to  become  bold  pretenders  to  the  heiress  of  Castle 
JMandeville,  though  their  manners  were  too  common- 
place, and  their  mode  of  attack  too  mean,  to  deserve 


THE  REFUSAL.  jqj 

being  recorded  in  this  narrative.  Suffice  it  to  observe, 
that  even  diffidence  possesses  some  degree  of  con- 
scious dignity,  and  simplicity  is  not  quite  destitute  of 
discernment.  The  manner  in  which  Emily  treated 
Lady  Mackintosh's  worthy  friends  was  not  unnoticed 
by  Lord  Avondel,  than  whom  no  one  better  under- 
stood, or  more  strictly  enforced  the  laws  of  female  de- 
corum. 

Disappointed  in  her  own  views  of  matching  her 
friend  to  some  worthless  fortune-hunter,  who  would 
reward  her  for  the  introduction,  Lady  Mackintosh  next 
considered  if  she  could  turn  the  young  lady's  visible 
predilection  for  Lord  Avondel,  and  Sir  Walter's  anxie- 
;  ty  to  accomplish  a  union  between  his  niece  and  friend, 
(  to  her  own  advantage.  This  event,  she  knew,  must 
considerably  diminish  the  golden  harvest  of  which  she 
had  once  entertained  such  sanguine  hopes,  but  she 
thought  that  by  narrowly  watching  the  marriage  writ- 
ings she  might  secure  to  Sir  Walter  the  power  of 
making  a  good  settlement.  To  this  purpose,  in  all  her 
tete-a-tetes  with  him,  she  pathetically  lamented  the 
evil  consequences  of  present  possessors  fettering  them- 
selves with  such  legal  ties  as  prevented  them  from  im- 
proving future  contingencies.  No  one,  she  said,  knew 
how  a  match  would  turn  out.  Manv  people  were  not 
what  they  seemed  to  be.  There  was  no  tolling  what 
at  some  future  time  we  might  want  ourselves  ;  and 
lastly,  uncles  and  fathers  were  never  so  respected  as 
when  they  kept  the  staff  in  their  own  hands. 

The  uncommon  turn  of  Lord  Avondel's  character 
prevented  Sir  Walter  from  profiting  by  these  sige  con- 
clusions. He  had  absolutely  declined  opening  his 
arms  to  receive  a  charming  girl  who  adored  him. 
Emily  then  was  doomed  to  singleness,  ot  course  would 
never  quit  her  uncle  :  and  Lady  Mackintosh  must  di- 
rect her  artillery  to  some  less-guarded  citadel,  as  she 
was  not  one  of  those  who  are  willing  to  waste  their 
lives  in  a  hopeless  siege. 

It  happened,  fortunately,  that  a  lady  of  her  acquaint- 
[\  ance  was   in  momentary  expectation  of  the  arrival  of 

VOL.  I.  K 


104  THE  REFUSAL. 

her  son,  who,  having  long  possessed  a  lucrative  appoint- 
ment in  India,  was  desirous  of  enjoying  the  fortune 
he  had  acquired  by  taking  a  wife  and  forming  a  splen- 
did establishment.  It  is  well  known  that  a  dowager  can- 
didate for  hymenial  advancement,  who,  like  Addison's 
widow,  means  to  have  a  settlement  in  every  county  in 
England,  somewhat  resembles  an  universal  philanthro- 
pist. "  Rutilians,  Trojans,  are  the  same  to  her,"  and 
her  heart  can  vibrate  from  soldier  to  sailor,  from  the 
landed  to  the  mercantile  interest.  She  had  heard  that 
Mr.  Caddy  intended  to  marry  as  soon  as  he  got  to  Eng- 
land, and  she  resolved  she  would  no  longer  waste  her 
Circassian  bloom,  or  frizzle  her  auburn  caxon,  among 
the  insensibles. 

The  day  after  Lord  Avondel's  departure,  she  in- 
formed Sir  Walter  how  much  she  regretted,  that  she 
was  not  able  any  longer  to  deny  Mrs.  Caddy's  request 
of  meeting  her  long  absent  son.  The  baronet,  thus 
happily  relieved  from  the  difficulty  of  intimating  to  a 
lady,  that  she  must  shift  her  quarters,  declared. his  vex- 
ation at  finding  he  must  remove  too,  as  business  had 
called  him  and  Emily  to  London.  Lady  Mackintosh 
now  offered  to  defer  her  visit  till  his  return,  as  her 
physican  had  prescribed  London  to  her  this  spring  to 
restore  the  elasticity  of  her  nerves,  which  had  been  un- 
braced by  sorrow  and  confinement.  No  hint  was  given 
that  a  trio  would  be  acceptable  to  the  Mandevilles ; 
and  though  she  also  recollected,  that  the  world  might 
think  it  indecorous  in  her  to  throw  herself  in  the  Na- 
bob's way,  Emily  never  assisted  her  delicacy  with  one 
request  that  she  would  continue  to  act  as  her  guardian. 
The  friends  therefore  separated,  but  I  must  record 
Lady  Mackintosh's  parting  benediction  :  "  Conquest 
attend  you,  my  dear  love,  and  may  you  find  the  jessa- 
mines less  impenetrable  than  the  greybeards."'' 


[   105  ] 


CHAPTER  VI. 


"  I  blush  to  think  what  I  have  said. 
"  But  fate  has  wrested  this  confession  from  me  ; 
"  Go  on  and  prosper  in  the  paths  of  honour, 
"  Thy  virtue  will  excuse  my  passion  for  thee." 

Addison. 

MISS  Mandeville  recollected  that  her  correspond- 
ence with  her  aunt  had  been  suspended  during  Lord 
Avondel's  residence  at  the  castle,  and  she  resolved  to 
renew  it  previous  to  her  departure  on  her  London  ex- 
pedition ;  she  accordingly  addressed  to  her  the  follow- 
ing letter. 

"  To  Lady  Selina  Delamore. 

"  Castle  Mandeville,  February 
18th,  1779. 
"  Our  plans  are  again  altered,  my  dearest  aunt.  Sir 
Walter  is  determined  to  shew  me  London.  He  has 
taken  a  house  in  Berkky  square,  where  we  are  to  con- 
tinue till  the  end  of  May.  I  must  not  think  of  leav- 
ing him,  but  I  hope  to  be  allowed  to  spend  part  of  next 
summer  at  Lime  Grove. 

"  We  have  had  a  most  interesting  visitor  at  the  cas- 
tle, of  whom,  when  we  meet,  I  shall  have  much  to  say. 
If  the  world  resembled  him,  it  would  not  be  that  intri- 
cate and  dangerous  labyrinth  which  all  who  have  trod- 
den its  mazes  describe.  For  myself,  the  first  wish  of 
my  soul  is  retirement.  I  know  I  am  unequal  to  the 
busy  conflict  of  public  life  ;  the  envious  and  malicious 
will  wound  my  heart,  the  confident  will  oppress  me.  I 
know  not  which  I  shall  most  feel,  the  sarcasms  of 
others,  or  the  self-reproach  which  my  errors  and  inad- 
vertencies will  perpetually  excite.  I  wish  this  Lon- 
'y    don  introduction  were  over,  and  that  I  were  again  un- 


106  THE  REFUSAL. 

der  your  kind  protection.  Of  one  thing,  however,  be 
assured,  my. heart  is  perfectly  safe  from- the  assaults  of 
fops  and  libertines.  It  has  aimed  highly,  my  dearest 
aunt,  and  now  it  is  invulnerable  ;  and  who  that  has  had 
an  opportunity  of  observing  you  can  attach  ridicule 
and  discontent  to  the  single  state,  or  uselessness  to  re- 
tirement? True,  you  are  dejected,  but  I  will  never  be- 
lieve your  sorrows  are  the  result  of  folly  or  miscon- 
duct. I  will  not  press  you  upon  a  point  on  which  I 
have  often  heard  you  say  you  could  not  be  communica- 
tive, but  the  hard  treatment  which  you  and  other  wor- 
thy people  meet  with,  is  one  reason  why  I  hate  the 
world. 

"  But  I  shall  forget  one  principal  reason  for  writing 
to  you.  It  is  to  ar,'c  if  you  know  the  Marchioness  of 
Glenvornc  ?  I  am  to  solicit  her  protection.  I  have 
lately  taken  a  dislike  to  chaperons  and  female  friends  : 
I  mean  such  as  one  generally  meets  with,  not  to  siu  h  a 
friend  as  she  who  took  me  into  her  care,  a  wayward, 
sickly,  neglected  orphan,  who  cherished  me  with  in- 
cessant attention,  and  to  whose  wisdom  and  goodness 
I  owe  the  few  commendable  qualities  I  possess. 

"  My  uncle  lives  in  too  hospitable  a  style  to  allow 
me  to  cultivate  accomplishments.  I  send  you  the  only 
drawing  I  have  been  able  to  finish,  but  I  must  explain 
its  history.  A  gentleman  was  praising  the  lily  of  the 
valley,  and  said  it  was  worthy  to  twine  round  the  crest 
of  glory.  It  was  only  in  a  song,  my  dear  aunt,  so 
there  was  nothing  in  it ;  but  I  thought  the  idea  was 
elegant,  and  I  wished  to  embody  it.  But  pray  don't 
suppose  the  figure  of  glory  like  this  gentleman  ;  in- 
deed it  has  not  the  most  distant  resemblance.  The 
performance  is  wretched,  but  you  will  value  it  as  mine. 

«  Write  to  me,  my  dearest  aunt,  and  inform  me 
most  particularly  of  yout  own  health  and  spirits.  Re- 
member me  to  the  two  doctors,  to  Wilson,  and  all  your 
little  suite.  I  am  afraid  they  would  not  now  call  me 
the  sprightly  columbine.  It  is  this  excursion  which  so 
depresses  my  spirits  ;  yet  I  must  go.  My  uncle's  af- 
fection for  me  increases  every  hour,  and  I  revere  his 


THE  REFUSAL.  107 

integrity  and  untutored  worth.  Yet,  my  best  friend,  I 
now  more  particularly  need  the  soothing  tenderness 
with  which  you  always  treated  your  ever  gi-ateful  and 
affectionate 

"  Emily  Mandeville." 

There  needed  no  ghost  to  tell  Lady  Selina,  that  the 
medium  through  which  her  niece  now  looked  at  the 
world  was  a  mist  raised  by  that  knave  Cupid  ;  or  to 
connect  the  interesting  visitor  with  the  figure  of  glory, 
which,  though  laboured  with  all  Emily's  little  skill,  was 
not  sufficiently  like  Lord  Avondel  to  be  recognised  by 
an  old  acquaintance.  Lady  Selina's  anxiety  for  her 
beloved  girl  was,  however,  much  relieved  by  hearing 
that  she  had  aimed  highly,  and  she  trusted  there  was 
so  much  meaning  in  the  allusion  to  the  lily,  that  her  dear 
Emily  would  soon  find  she  lived  in  a  very  tolerable  sort 
of  a  world.  She  was  convinced  of  her  rectitude,  pru- 
dence, and  delicacy,  and  highly  approved  the  wisdom, 
as  well  as  the  kindness,  of  Sir  Waiter's  intention  of 
introducing  her  to  the  circles  in  which  she  was  born  to 
move.  It  was  a  scheme  which  she  had  long  meditat- 
ed, nor  were  ill  health  and  broken  spirits  the  only  ob- 
stacles to  its  execution.  Years  of  seclusion  had  robbed 
her  of  almost  all  her  early  connections,  and  from  the 
few  by  whom  she  was  remembered  Emily  would  reap 
no  advantage  by  appearing  under  her  auspices. 

Knowing  that  there  is  no  surer  method  of  confirm- 
ing an  attachment  than  to  argue  against  it,  Lady  Selina 
took  no  farther  notice  of  her  niece's  chagrin  than  to 
ascribe  it  to  some  little  perplexity  arising  from  Lady 
Mackintosh,  ol  whose  impertinence  Emily  had  for- 
merly complained.  "  London  air,  my  love,"  said  she, 
"  is  an  excellent  specific  for  the  spleen,  which  is  en- 
gendered by  associating  with  country  gossips,  and  I 
am  convinced  Lady  Glenvorne  will  soon  remove  your 
disgust  to  chaperons.  You  will  find  her  the  true  wo- 
man of  fashion  ;  polite,  liberal,  correct  in  her  princi- 
ples, av.d  engaging  in  her  b«  haviour.  I  will  not  depre 
\  ciate  the  advantages,  disguise  the  inconveniencies,  or 


108  THE  REFUSAL. 

deny  the  duties  of  celibacy,  or  retirement,  but  the 
very  circumstances  of  our  existence  tells  us,  that  few 
people  can  live  entirely  lor  themselves.  At  your  age, 
Emily,  I  little  thought  I  should  have  passed  through 
life  unconnected.  With  gratitude  to  Providence,  I 
acknowledge  the  many  comforts  I  have  experienced, 
but,  as  far  as  temporal  felicity  is  considered,  my  lot 
has  been  much  less  enviable  than  lady  Glenvorne's, 
who  was  once  my  intimate  companion.  Nor  can  I,  in 
the  fulness  of  my  affection,  wish  }'ou  better  fortune, 
than  to  be  united  to  a  man  who  resembles  the  deceased 
Marquis  in  every  thing  but  his  early  death. 

"  You  are  not  wrong,  Emily,  to  aim  highly,  in 
every  sense  of  the  word  ;  for  though  rank  and  fortune 
are  not  synonymous  with  happiness,  if  we  are.  born  in 
an  elevated  station  we  cannot  innocently  submit  to 
self-degradation  without  some  most  urgent  reasons. 
We  ought  not,  then,  to  indulge  ourselves  in  using 
common-place  invectives  against  the  infelicities  which 
we  discover  in  our  lot.  It  has  been  chosen  for  us  by 
a  Being  Infinitely  good  and  wise,  who  does  not  expect 
from  the  prince  the  mechanical  industry  of  the  manu- 
facturer, or  from  the  children  of  rank  and  affluence 
the  contemplative  exercises  of  a  recluse.  The  fortune 
of  your  ancestors  has  devolved  to  you  to  call  you  to  a 
life  of  benevolence,  generosity,  and  exertion,  and  in 
choosing  your  future  partner  you  are  bound,  not  mere- 
ly to  consider,  whether  he  be  pleasing  to  yourself,  but 
also,  whether  he  be  disposed,  to  act  as  a  righteous 
steward  of  those  valuable  talents  which  you  will  trans- 
mit to  his  trust?  We  are  not,  I  conceive,  at  liberty  to 
point  out  the  situation  in  which  we  should  have  been 
happier,  unless  it  be  one  that  we  have  forfeited  through 
our  own  vice  or  folly,  and  then  we  may  allude  to  it  as 
a  humiliating  source  of  self-reproach,  not  as  a  topic  of 
discontent.  Every  class  in  society,  and  every  indivi- 
dual in  each  class,  has  his  peculiar  trials  and  tempta- 
tions, virtues  and  vices,  jovs  and  sorrows.  The  pee- 
vish wordling,  and  the  religious  enthusiast,  looking 
only  at  a  part,  falsely  determines  the  world  to  be  the 


THE  REFUSAL.  109 

don  of  misery,  and  its  inhabitants  a  mass  of  depravi- 
ty. The  liberal  and  the  devout  see  much  of  real  en- 
joyment in  this  life,  and  in  their  fellow  creatures  many 
remains  of  that  original  perfection  in  which  their  spe- 
cies was  created.  We  indulge  our  passions,  my  love, 
till  nothing  but  uninterrupted  happiness  will  suit  our 
craving  appetites.  We  set  out  in  life  expecting  others 
to  pay  us  the  same  attention  which  self  love  tells  us  is 
our  due.  Our  fellow  travellers  are  instigated  by  simi- 
lar motives.  Competitors  for  fame  or  fortune  justle, 
and  then  become  enemies,  and  we  afterwards  quarrel 
with  our  contemporaries  because  they  too  much  resem- 
ble ourselves. 

"  Do  not,  my  dearest  Emilv,  dislike  the  world  from 
a  supposition  that  it  has  injured  me.  I  am  in  most 
perfect  charity  with  every  creature  ;  nor  do  I  take  to 
myself  any  merit  in  this  ;  for  I  have  nothing  to  com- 
plain of.  My  lot  has  been  singular.  I  have  been 
called  to  sustain  hard  trials.  I  have  fallen  far  short 
of  the  submission  which  I  ought  to  have  exercised,  and 
yet  I  have  been  commended  for  patience.  I  have  of- 
ten too  been  accused  of  misdeeds  of  which  I  am  inno- 
cent. If  my  story  were  known,  I  should  appear  in  a 
very  different  light,  and  must  give  up  the  credit  in  one 
instance  which  I  should  acquire  in  another.  I  believe 
we  are  much  oftener  mistaken  in  our  opinion  of  our 
neighbours,  than  censorious  through  malice.  That  in- 
nate attachment  to  what  is  perfect,  fair,  and  good, 
which  is  still  discernible  in  fallen  man,  impels  us  spon- 
taneously to  condemn  error  and  depravity,  and  in  our 
eagerness  to  pay  what  we  feel  to  be  an  easy  homage  to 
virtue,  we  do  not  wait  to  be  fully  acquainted  with 
those  minute  particulars  which  would  enable  us  to  be 
correct  in  our  decision.  Indeed,  our  finite  faculties 
disqualify  us  for  the  office  of  censor,  for  the  grave 
closes  on  many  a  concealed  excellence  and  many  an 
undiscovered  crime. 

"  Your  drawing  certainly  is  not  above  mediocrity, 
but  I  am  not  anxious  to  have  you  excel  in  mere  accom- 
plishments.    It  is  no  misfortune  or  disgrace  to  wa»t 


110  THE  REFUSAL. 

what  is  termed  genius,  it  is  a  dreadful  offence  to  mis- 
apply it;  for  correct  taste  and  a  capacious  intellect 
must  at  least  affect  pure  moral  feeling,-  and  the  artist 
who  embodies,  or  the  poet  who  conceives,  what  is 
truly  beautiful  and  sublime,  must  be  a  practical  hypo- 
crite if  he  be  a  slave  to  gross  or  mean  passions,  I  may 
further  add,  they  must  have  broken  through  more 
barriers  than  unenlightened  common-place  characters; 
for  the  acute  sensations  which  teach  us  to  execute  or  to 
imagine  what  is  most  exalted  and  attractive,  are  all  in- 
tended as  preservatives  from  vice. 

"  This  long  letter,  my  dear  child,  is  the  most  satis- 
factory proof  I  can  give  that  I  am  well  and  cheerful ; 
for  you  know  I  never  prose  but  when  my  little  com- 
monweal is  in  perfect  order.  This  amended  state  of 
health  prevents  me  from  feeling  uncomfortable  at  re- 
linquishing your  society  to  him  who  has  a  natural  as 
well  as  a  legal  right  to  require  it.  You  are  bound 
to  repay  his  fond  affection  for  you  by  making  all  can- 
did allowances  for  his  infirmities,  and  ministering  to 
the  wants  of  his  declining  years.  If,  consistently 
with  your  other  duties,  you  can  devote  a  few  weeks 
to  me,  they  shall  be  weeks  of  festival.  Till  then  let 
your  pen  faithfully  delineate  your  sentiments  to  your 
ever  affectionate  and  faithful  friend, 

"  Sei.ina  Delamore." 

"  The  doctors  (as  you  choose  to  call  my  medical 
and  clerical  visitors)  will  not  recognize  you  under  any 
other  character  than  sprightly  Columbine.  Like  the 
rest  of  my  suite  they  continue  fondly  attached  to  you." 

It  is  foreign  to  my  purpose  to  relate  all  the  particu- 
lars of  Miss  Mandcville's  London  excursion.  I  may 
safely  trust  the  imagination  of  every  reader  to  supply 
the  necessary  quantity  of  operas,  routs,  balls,  plays, 
and  masquerades;  beaux  and  belles,  lords  and  citi- 
zens, vulgar  talkers  and  vulgar  thinkers.  Ol  course, 
so  great  a  fortune  as  my  voung  heroine  t  ouid  ;iot  go 
out  without  gaining  some  heart,  which,  by  est;  Wished 
rule,  was  the  lawful  property  of  some  less  rich  or  less 


THE  REFUSAL.  HI 

beautiful  girl,  who  had  long  been  dying  for  the  very- 
Adonis  whom  the  merciless  Emily  vanquished  with  a 
look.  The  reader  will  conceive  (especially  if  that 
reader  be  a  young  beauty)  how  wretched  Miss  Man- 
deville's  murderous  attractions  made  her,  and  how, 
notwithstanding  her  sincere  determination  never  to 
disturb  the  peace  of  mankind,  she  went  on  slaughter- 
ing like  the  French  Invincibles.  Or  should  the  eye 
which  glances  over  these  pages  dart  its  unlustrous 
beams  over  the  faded  cheek  of  some  love-lorn  damsel, 
let  her  be  consoled  bv  my  assuring  her,  that,  at  the 
end  of  this  historv,  when  I  have  married  Emily  to 
my  satisfaction,  I  shall  oblige  all  her  discarded  swains 
to  find  out  the  ladies  who  have  long  secretly  adored 
them,  and  lead  them  to  the  hymeneal  altar  in  succes- 
sion ;  because  all  novelists  and  dramatists  are  compel- 
led to  enrich  the  world  with  a  large  colony  of  happy 
pairs  a  little  inferior  to  the  hero  and  heroine  in  wealth, 
virtue,  and  felicity.  But  being  at  this  instant  busy 
with  my  principal  plot,  I  will  not  (though  I  know  it  is 
the  custom)  introduce  long  episodes,  but  will  faithfully 
promise,  if  I  should  happen  to  fill  my  prescribed  num- 
ber of  sheets  without  the  aid  of  supplementary  matter, 
that  the  thirteenth  edition  of  this  work  shall  be  en- 
riched with  many  new  personages,  all,  like  the  chief 
character,  copied  from  real  life. 

I  am,  however,  compelled  to  mention  one  conquest 
which  Miss  Mandeville  made  soon  after  her  arrival  in 
London,  the  young  Marquis  of  Glenvorne  ;  an  event 
which  has  perhaps  been  anticipated,  as  I  have  already 
premised  that  their  estates  joined,  and  that  Emily 
really  was  an  engaging,  unassuming,  unaffected,  young 
woman.  The  Marchioness  very  cheerfully  accepted 
the  office  which  she  had  been  requested  to  assume,  of 
guiding  the  inexperienced  fair  through  the  maze  of 
what  is  so  emphatically  and  justly  called  life  ;  and  this 
gave  the  young  nobleman  an  opportunity  of  observing 
that  the  Devonshire  heiress  possessed  more  sweetness, 
delicacy,  and  ingenuous  modesty,  than  he  had  ever 
''met  with.  He  soon  grew  enamoured,  and  anxious  to 
secure  the  prize  from  a  host  of  competitors  he  hazard- 


112  THE  REFUSAL. 

cd  an  early  declaration.  Finding  a  common  rejection 
would  not  discourage  him  from  perseverance,  or  satis- 
fy his  mother,  who  (equally  anxious  for  the  connec- 
tion) begged  to  know  what  objections  could  be  made 
to  her  son,  Emily  frankly  pleaded  a  pre-engagement. 
The  marquis  was  staggered  at  this  avowal.  He  knew 
the  young  lady  had  passed  her  early  years  in  almost 
total  solitude  ;  he  also  knew  the  neighbourhood  round 
Mandeville  Castle,  and  judged  it  contained  no  rival 
formidable  enough  to  extinguish  his  hopes.  There 
was  no  dangerous-looking  visitant  who  frequented 
Berkley  square  ;  and  would  any  one  who  had  preten- 
sions to  such  a  treasure  be  so  heedless  as  to  leave  it 
unguarded!  Surely,  there  was  something  Jesuitical  in 
the  lady's  apparent  frankness  ?  She  had  conceived 
some  prejudice  against  him,  which  not  choosing  to 
avow,  she  pleaded  an  objection  that  most  men  would 
admit  was  insurmountable.  He  felt  sincerely  attached 
to  her,  and  he  trusted  a  more  intimate  knowledge  of 
his  character  would  remove  her  distaste.  He  there- 
fore begged  to  be  still  considered  as  a  friend,  and  as- 
sured her  that  though  he  would  nevtr  pain  her  by 
his  solicitations,  he  must  secretly  cherish  hopes,  and 
would  never  attempt  to  subdue  his  attachment,  till 
he  saw  her  in  the  possession  of  another,  or  heard 
the  enviable  man  she  so  highly  honoured  assert 
his  prior  claim.  Indeed,  the  Marquis  had  many  rea- 
sons to  feel  confidence  in  the  valadity  of  his  own 
pretensions.  He  was  young,  rich,  agreeable  in  his 
person,  lively  and  polished  in  his  manners,  and  irre- 
proachable in  his  conduct.  He  was  enough  in  love 
to  gratify  femaie  vanity,  and  yet  not  so  desperately 
attached  to  a  woman  who  rejected  his  offers  as  to  bring 
any  imputation  on  his  good  sense.  He  was  also  an 
affectionate,  attentive  son,  and  was  generally  spoken 
of  as  so  likely  to  convey  happiness  with  rank  and  for- 
tune, that  the  offer  of  his  hand  would  not  have  been 
rejected  except  by  one  who  had  romantically  pondered 
on  the  faultless  image  of  perfection  till  she  fell  in  iove 
with  Lord  Avondel, 


C  113  ] 


CHAPTER  VII. 


u  Indeed  it  goes  so  heavily  with  my  disposition,  that  this  goodly 
frame  the  earth  seems  to  me  a  sterile  promontory  ;  this  most  ex- 
cellent canopy  the  air,  look  you,  this  brave  o'er-hanging  firma- 
ment, this  majestic  roof,  fretted  with  golden  fire,  why  it  appears 
no  other  thing  to  me  than  a  foul  pestilential  congregation  of  va- 
pours.    Man  delights  not  me, — nor  woman  neither." 

Shakespeare. 

BEING,  like  my  heroine,  much  attached  to  what 
is  mysterious  and  sublime,  I  must  now  abandon  all 
other  characters  and  attend  Lord  Avondel  to  his  pa- 
ternal mansion. 

Nature  had  formed  the  mind  of  this  nobleman  in 
one  of  her  most  capacious  moulds,  and  all  who  saw 
him  early  in  life  pronounced  him  born  alike  for  honoura- 
ble celebrity  and  domestic  felicity.  He  had  just  obtain- 
ed possession  of  his  estate  when  he  became  attached 
to  a  lady,  whose  merit  and  beauty  counterbalanced  the 
the  objection  which  his  friends  might  form  to  the 
smallness  of  her  fortune  ;  and  this  was  still  further  ob- 
viated by  her  prudence  and  retired  habits.  Their 
union  was  determined  upon,  the  day  was  fixed,  and 
the  earl  set  out  for  Avon  Park  to  prepare  for  the  recep- 
tion of  his  bride.  The  separation  was  to  be  very 
short,  and  the  intended  bridegroom  indulged  in  all 
those  dreams  of  perfect  felicity  which  a  marriage,  con- 
tracted under  the  happiest  auspices,  could  suggest  to 
a  sanguine  temper,  animated  by  a  strong  attachment 
to  a  lovely  amiable  object.  Such  was  Lord  Avondel's 
situation,  when  he  received  a  letter  from  the  woman 
he  thus  idolized,  to  tell  him  this  dream  of  happiness 
was  at  an  end,  that  she  was  imperiously  compelled  to 
renounce  him  for  ever;  and  that  as  she  should  never 
.  see  or  hear  from  him  more,  she  called  upon  him,  as 
he  valued  his  honour  and  his  peace,  to  forget  her,  and 


114  THE  REFUSAL. 

from  that  moment  consider  himself  liberated  from  a 
most  unhappy  engagement.  He  hastened  to  her  resi- 
dence ;  it  had  been  only  a  temporary  one.  She  and 
her  servants  were  gone,  and  had  left  no  clue  to  discover 
her  retreat.  Her  letter  seemed  to  be  dictated  by  the 
deepest  anguish  of  mind,  but  whether  it  were  the  an- 
guish of  guilt  or  of  sorrow  he  knew  not.  It  was  a 
dreadful  mystery,  but  ft  still  remained  an  undiscovered 
one,  as  from  that  moment  he  had  neither  seen  nor 
heard  of  her  proceedings  or  abode. 

A  disappointment  so  unexpected,  so  inexplicable, 
stamped  an  indelible  impression  on  Lord  Avondel's 
character.  To  petryfying  surprise  succeeded  the  deep- 
est dejection.  Somewhat  of  indignation,  however, 
mingled  with  his  regret.  Among  the  various  unfound- 
ed conjectures  to  which  this  incident  gave  birth,  envy 
and  censoriousness  circulated  a  report,  that  passion  had 
transgressed  the  bounds  of  virtue,  and  compelled  the 
lady  to  a  temporary  retirement.  Conscious  of  inno- 
cence, Lord  Avondel  silently  left  the  improbable  ca- 
lumny to  refute  itself.  But  a  thought  shot  across  his 
mind  : — could  that  angel  countenance,  where  purity 
seemed  to  sit  blushing  at  her  own  attractions,  be  in- 
deed the  vizor  of  specious  blandishment,  the  treacher- 
ous appendage  of  a  polluted  person  and  contaminated 
soul  ?  and  was  this  obscure  elopement  the  impulse  of 
contrition,  or  the  stern  injunction  of  necessity,  shud- 
dering at  impending  discovery,  and  fearing  to  plunge 
into  aggravated  guilt  ?  Away  with  the  unworthy 
thought !  If  fiends  can  speak  and  look  like  the  holy 
inhabitants  of  heaven,  what  avails  discernment. 

Lord  Avondtl  was  not  one  of  those  meek,  tranquil 
characters-,  who  can  fold  the  arms  of  patience  over  a 
bosom  throbbing  with  anguish.  Domestic  life  was  now 
a  vacuum,  England  was  a  desert.  His  country's  ban- 
ners were  flying  on  the  continent,  and  under  their  mar- 
tial shade  he  might  forget  the  lover  in  the  soldier. 
Impelled  by  a  powerful  desire  of  sacrificing  that  life 
nobly  which  he  had  ceased  to  value,  he  joined  the  al- 
lied army,  while  his  wrongs  and  sorrows  furnished 


THE  REFUSAL.  115 

conversation  for  every  tea-table  in  London,  and  re- 
busses  and  acrostics  no  longer  pretended  to  involve  the 
polite  world  in  superlative  perplexity. 

I  have  alreadv  stated,  that  his  merit  soon  obtained 
the  distinctions  which  he  sought,  but  his  bright  career 
had  nearly  been  interrupted.  After  supper  one  even- 
ing in  the  mess-room,  when  the  bottle  had  circulated 
freely,  an  officer  mentioned  the  name  of  the  mother  of 
Lord  Avondel's  recreant  bride  among  the  disreputable 
characters  of  her  time.  The  enthusiasm  of  an  unsub- 
dued attachment  urged  him  to  defend  the  lady's  repu- 
tation. High  words  ensued  ;  they  ended  in  a  chal- 
lenge, but  the  consequences  were  prevented  by  their 
general's  ordering  them  both  under  an  arrest.  He  re- 
moved it  next  morning,  and  told  Lord  Avondel,  in 
friendly  confidence,  that  the  cause  he  meant  to  have 
espoused  was  indefensible.  The  horrid  suggestion  I 
have  before  alluded  to,  now  returned  with  tenfold  vio- 
lence. The  lady  who  had  deserted  him  had  certainly 
been  educated  under  the  immediate  auspices  of  this 
infamous  mother.  If  he  had  subsequently  associated 
with  those  women  who  blend  the  characters  of  good 
and  beautiful,  his  native  candour  would  have  resisted 
the  injurious  suspicion,  in  spite  of  the  irritation  inci- 
dent to  such  deep  sorrows  and  unprovoked  wrongs. 
But  a  camp  rarely  exhibits  any  trait  of  female  excel- 
lence. His  next  residence  was  in  a  dissipated  Italian 
court,  and  there  he  finished  that  dark  outline  of  treache- 
ry, folly,  licentiousness,  and  caprice,  to  which  his  proud 
and  lacerated  heart  affixed  the  name  of  woman. 

The  man  who  has  quarrelled  with  one  half  of  his 
species  is  seldom  on  very  good  terms  with  the  other, 
especially  if  he  has  allowed  himself  to  believe  that  he 
is  himself  a  being  of  a  superior  order.  In  reality, 
Lord  Avondel's  merit  was  duly  appreciated  by  the 
government  he  served,  and  the  society  with  which  he 
associated ;  but  his  early  disappointment  had  made 
him  one  of  those  not  uncommon  characters  in  high 
//  life,  who,  with  great  apparent  gentleness  and  urbanity, 
i     are  really  hard  to  please.     He  measured  human  na- 

VOL.   I.  L 


116  THE  REFUSAL. 

ture  by  the  standard  of  perfection,  and  whatever  fell 
below  it  he  beheld  with  pity,  indifference,  or  contempt. 
He  was,  however,  prevented  by  a  regard  for  his  own 
character,  from  exposing  those  sentiments.  "  He 
would  be  great,  was  not  without  ambition,"  and  having 
obtained  the  reputation  of  being  the  best  bred  man  in 
Europe,  he  took  care  to  restrain  every  expression 
which  would  invalidate  his  title  to  that  distinction. 
Though  pride  was  his  ruling  passion,  it  was  not  pure 
from  the  mean  alloy  of  vanity,  and  with  all  his  affected 
preference  for  retirement,  he  was  born  for  a  public  life. 
Its  difficulties  exercised  his  great  qualities,  and  his 
noble  avarice  pointed  not  at  wealth  but  at  fame. 
Though  apparently  indifferent  to  his  own  praises,  no 
music  was  so  grateful  to  his  ear,  and  his  dislike  of 
others  was  always  disarmed  by  flattery,  or  a  conviction 
that  the  offender  was  attached  to  his  person.  So  insa- 
tiable was  his  thirst  of  distinction,  that  it  often  counter- 
acted his  self-esteem,  and  the  passion  of  being  first  in 
every  company  so  far  possessed  him,  that  had  some 
extraordinary  chance  placed  him  in  a  group  of  rustics, 
like  "  mighty  Csesar  he  would  have  been  the  best 
wrestler  on  the  green,"  rather  than  have  passed  unre- 
garded. Conscious  of  his  weakness  in  this  particular, 
he  was  scrupulous  in  the  choice  of  his  companions. 
He  formed  few  friendships  ;  he  distrusted  the  world 
too  much  to  have  anv  confidant,  and  having  been  early 
robbed  of  those  blessings  which  would  have  softened 
his  high  indignant  spirit,  his  chief  aim  through  life  was 
to  seek  and  guard   "  the  bubble  of  reputation." 

In  pursuit  of  this  fancied  good,  he  had  sacrificed 
much  of  his  paternal  fortune  to  munificent,  patriotic 
and  splendid  actions.  He  had  by  this  incurred  the 
common  lot  of  obliging  some  worthy  and  grateful  peo- 
ple, he  had  also  armed  ingratitude  and  knavery  with 
the  power  of  doing  him  injuries.  He  suffered  this 
latter  circumstance  to  dwell  too  much  upon  his  mind, 
without  considering  that  those  who  aim  at  popularity 
should  be  prepared  to  encounter  rebuffs.  The  emolu- 
ments of  his   appointments  proved   inadequate  to  the 


THE  REFUSAL.  117 

largeness  of  his  soul,  and  as  he  felt  equally  incapable 
of  checking  the  impulse  of  policy  or  beneficence,  he 
saw  for  himself  no  future  alternative  but  poverty  or 
dependence.  To  the  latter  he  could  not  submit;  re- 
putation, honour,  truth,  attachment  to  his  beloved 
country,  all  forbade  his  becoming  the  tool  of  power. 
The  former  he  fancied  he  could  bear — indeed,  his  per- 
sonal wants  were  few  :  plain  in  his  habits,  temperate 
in  his  enjoyments,  and  utterly  void  of  all  expensive 
vices,  he  only  wanted  to  be  transported  to  those  times 
when  eulogists,  content  with  cameleon's  food,  crowded 
the  bare  halls  of  honourable  poverty,  to  have  been  per- 
sonally contented  with  "  the  hermit's  maple  dish  and 
beechen  bowl  unstained  with  wine,"  to  laugh  at  all  the 
wants  and  to  despise  all  the  enjoyments  of  luxury. 

In  this  disposition  he  landed  in  England,  disgusted 
with  the  world,  though  it  had  paid  him  for  his 
waste  of  time  and  fortune  by  a  large  return  of  the  coin 
he  most  valued  ;  disgusted  with  ministry,  but  not  on 
account  of  his  recall ;  for  the  deranged  state  of  his 
finances  compelled  him  to  wish  to  be  removed  from 
that  station,  where  the  grandeur  of  his  views  and  the 
steady  integrity  of  his  principles  made  him  act  rather 
like  a  guardian  angel,  devoted  to  the  service  ol  others, 
than  as  a  mercenary  adventurer  bent  on  securing  his 
own  emolument.  Neither  did  his  dissatisfaction  at 
government  arise  from  disapprobation  of  their  mea- 
sures, nor  yet  from  their  not  having  given  him  some 
lucrative  sinecure  as  a  reward  for  his  services.  On 
the  contrary,  he  approved  of  their  general  plans,  and 
as  he  scorned  to  avow  his  wants,  so  he  estimated  his 
services  too  highly  to  believe  they  couid  be  repaid  by 
a  pecuniary  reward.  His  resentment  arose  from  some 
breach  of  etiquette  in  the  letters  of  recal,  which  spoke 
less  of  his  deserts  than  he  expected. 

He  had  experienced  the   probity  and  fidelity  of  Sir 

Walter    Mandeville,    in  some    verv    trying    incidents 

i,    in   his  early  life,   and   when  his  conduct  had   been  re- 

>     cently  censured   in   the   house  of  commons,  the   good 

baronet  had   so  far  combatted  his  natural  shyness  and 


118  THE  REFUSAL. 

acquired  indolence,  as  to  hurry  to  London,  with  a 
view  of  influencing  all  his  connections  to  unite  in  the 
defence  of  his  friend.  Certainly,  his  motives  were  more 
honourable  than  his  services  were  apparent,  but  grati- 
tude was  a  predominant  feature  in  Lord  Avondel's 
mind,  and  his  attachments,  though  few,  were  indelible. 
The  ennui  which  ill  health  and  want  ot  occupation  had 
considerably  increased  during  his  voyage,  was  much 
dissipated  by  his  residence  at  Mandeville  Castle.  He 
saw  there  characters  widely  different  from  those  he  had 
lately  mixed  with  ;  they  required  no  study  and  little 
precaution.  He  had  only  to  appear  amiable  and  agree- 
able, and  to  drink  largely  not  merely  of  the  draught  of 
adulation  but  also  of  the  more  grateful  beverage  of 
admiration  and  love.  For  let  it  not  be  supposed  that 
a  man  of  Lord  Avondel's  penetration  could  long  mis- 
take the  language  of  Emily's  downcast  eyes,  or  not 
feel  gratified  at  a  conquest  so  flattering  to  self-esteem. 
Yet  the  paeans  of  triumphant  vanity  could  not  make 
him  insensjble  to  the  claims  of  honour.  He  knew  his 
character  would  suffer  in  the  estimation  of  the  world,  if 
he  were  suspected  of  having  surreptitiously  stolen  the 
affections  of  an  inexperienced,  wealthy  heiress,  who, 
when  she  gave  him  her  heart,  seemed  as  much  circum- 
scribed as  Eve  was  in  her  choice  of  Adam.  He  revolt- 
ed from  the  idea  of  injustice  to  the  young  lady,  from 
stooping  to  mean  expedients  to  repair  his  fortune,  and 
from  the  danger  of  entrusting  his  honour  and  his  peace 
to  the  guardianship  of  a  fair  novice,  whose  extreme 
simplicity  of  mind  and  manners  might  change  into 
levity  or  folly  when  she  mixed  with  the  world.  He 
determined,  therefore,  whatever  might  be  the  issue,  to 
avoid  all  self-reproach,  by  preserving  a  manner  rather 
paternal  than  amatory. 

Still,  however,  her  society  pleased,  and  her  partiali- 
ty soothed,  him.  None  of  his  perfections  were  over- 
looked ;  his  exalted  sentiments  were  never  uttered  to 
the  winds  if  Miss  Mandeville  was  present.  She  re- 
corded all  his  opinions,  she  wept  for  his  past  dangers, 
she  felt  for  all  his  wrongs.     This  really  was  very  capti- 


THE   REFUSAL  119 

vating  in  a  woman  who  could  give  not  only  competen- 
cy but  affluence  to  her  husband.  This  woman  too  was 
young,  docile,  gentle,  almost  even  to  his  fastidious 
fancy  beautiful.  There  were  traits  in  her  countenance 
which  reminded  him  of  one  he  wished  he  could  forever 
forget.  He  regretted  he  had  discovered  a  resemblance, 
and  now  believed  it  only  consisted  in  the  same  general 
expression  of  sensibility  and  delicacy.  Insensibly  he 
grew  happier.  All  men  were  not  unjust,  perhaps  all 
women  were  not  faithless,  wayward,  and  capricious. 
He  was  awaked  from  this  agreeable  reverie  by  Sir 
Walter's  proposal,  and  Lady  Mackintosh's  hinting  that 
he  was  publicly  suspected  of  a  design  on  Emily.  He 
no  longer  allowed  himself  to  consider  what  was  sooth- 
ing to  his  own  feelings,  but  what  his  own  fame  and  her 
advantage  required ;  and  his  parting  advice  to  Sir 
Walter  was  dictated  by  that  disinterestedness  which 
ever  marked  his  conduct.  Nor  were  the  praises  of 
Lady  Paulina  Monthermer  accidentally  introduced  ; 
he  was  persuaded  that  Emilv  ought  to  forget  him,  and 
he  fancied  piqued  vanity  would  be  a  strong  auxiliary  to 
induce  a  young  lady  to  withdraw  her  heart  from  one 
who  would  be  thus  copious  in  the  praise  of  another. 

The  objects  which  Avon  Park  presented  to  his  view 
excited  the  most  soul-harrowing  recollections.  The 
last  time  he  had  been  there  was  the  day  he  received 
the  mvsterious  letter  that  had  given  such  a  dark  co- 
louring to  his  mind.  He  walked  over  his  grounds,  and 
saw  the  plantations  he  had  formed  when  hope  buoyed 
him  up  with  the  most  flattering  expectations.  "  Not 
a  shrub  that  he  heard  her  admire  but  he  hasted  and 
planted  it  there."  They  grew  and  flourished  as  ra- 
pidly as  his  own  joys  had  faded.  The  buds  were  just 
swelling  with  all  the  luxuriant  promise  of  early  spring; 
he  viewed  their  stately  growth,  and  then  contemplated 
himself  a  ruin  tending  earthward,  never  more  to  be 
attired  in  the  cheerful  colours  of  joy  and  hope. 
|'  But  where  was  she  for  whom  he  had  formed  this 
//paradise  of  rural  bliss,  the  Eve  who  should  have  walk- 
I  ed  in  these  groves  ?  He  blamed  himself  for  conform- 

L2 


120  THE  REFUSAL. 

ing  to  that  rigid  injunction  of  offended  honour  which 
had  forbade  him  to  enquire  her  fate.  She  might  be 
innocent,  faithful,  wretched  ;  requiring  his  assistance, 
bewailing  his  neglect.  If  the  strange  impediment  to 
which  he  had  alluded  were  removed — No,  impossible  ! 
Her  letter  told  him  the  bar  was  eternal.  Wandering 
through  his  plantations  he  endeavoured  to  believe  the 
soothing  predictions  of  Shenstone  ; 

The  shrub  and  the  bower  and  the  tree, 
"Which  I  reared  for  her  pleasure  in  vain, 
In  time  may  have  comfort  for  me. 

He  returned  to  the  saloon,  threw  himself  on  a  sofa, 
gazed  on  the  border  which  she  had  painted,  and  the 
chimney-piece  which  had  been  executed  according  to 
her  design.  To  stay  the  tide  of  reflection  was  impos- 
sible. He  allowed  himself  to  expatiate  on  the  visions 
of  his  early  life,  while  all  his  subsequent  experience 
deepened -the  conviction,  that  they  were  indeed  visions 
of  bliss  worth  far  more  than  whatever  ambition  pre- 
sented u  to  crown  the  hero's  and  the  patriot's  toils." 
Could  they  be  realized  ?  No,  the  bar  was  eternal. 
Poor  little  Emily  !  she  was  an  amiable  girl,  but  there 
was  a  sublimity,  a  nobleness  of  mind,  in  her  who  once 
possessed  his  heart.  Besides,  could  he  offer  himself 
to  the  fair  heiress  while  labouring  under  the  weakness 
of  a  pre-attachment  ?  "  No,"  said  Avondel,  "  I  may 
be  wretched  but  I  cannot  be  base,  and  I  will  continue 
to  hope  that  she  will  soon  forget  me."  Doubtless  his 
lordship  was  very  sincere  in  that  wish,  and  it  was  only 
an  unaccountable  start  of  peevishness  which  made  him 
exclaim,  "  Frailty  thy  name  is  woman,"  on  being  in- 
formed by  one  of  his  London  correspondents,  that  the 
town  was  in  daily  expectation  of  Lord  Glenvorne's 
being  married  to  Miss  Mandeville. 

If  Lord  Avondel  were  really  mortified  at  this  intel- 
ligence, he  had  an  opportunity  of  experiencing  the 
comforts  which  are  derived  from  conscious  rectitude, 
and  to  abate  his   chagrin  he  had  cause  to  congratulate 


THE  REFUSAL.  121 

himself  on  his  escape  from  a  woman  of  so  much  le- 
vity. His  energetic  mind  did  not  long  remain  supine, 
and  he  struggled  to  subdue  his  regrets.  Renouncing 
every  view  of  improving  his  fortune  by  faction,  court 
attendance,  or  matrimonial  alliance,  he  determined  to 
gather  up  the  wrecks  and  subdue  his  desires,  to  be  con- 
tent with  what  remained.  Probably  Lord  Avondel  is 
not  the  first  nobleman  who,  returning  to  his  estate  af- 
ter a  long  absence,  discovers  that  his  steward  has  pro- 
vided him  with  a  vast  deal  of  employment.  The  earl 
found  he  had  to  settle  embarrassed  accounts,  to  redress 
the  wrongs  of  many  of  his  tenants,  to  restrain  the  pe- 
culations of  others,  to  rescue  his  manorial  rights  from 
poachers,  to  establish  order  and  impartial  justice  among 
his  dependents,  and  to  cultivate  the  good  opinion  of 
his  neighbours.  He  applied  himself  with  avidity  to 
these  pursuits,  and  soon  made  two  agreeable  discove- 
ries, namely,  that  his  affairs  were  rather  intricate  than 
desperate,  and  that  wherever  he  went  his  manners 
would  gain  popularity  and  his  character  enforce  re- 
spect. 

Refined  and  upright  minds  only  can  duly  appreciate 
the  exquisite  satisfaction  of  knowing,  that  they  depend 
not  on  the  forbearance  or  bounty  of  others  for  the 
means  of  existence.  The  satisfaction  derived  from 
this  noble  consciousness,  was  too  congenial  to  the  feel- 
ings of  Lord  Avondel  to  permit  his  undivided  atten- 
tion to  ruminate  on  the  festering  wounds  of  love  or  re- 
sentment. With  all  the  dignity  of  a  Cincinnatus,  he 
turned  his  mighty  mind  to  rural  occupations.  Much 
as  he  affected  to  renounce  hope,  he  was  in  fact  the  con- 
stant dupe  of  expectation,  being  ever  in  pursuit  of  what 
the  world  did  not  afford,  a  felicity  commensurate  with 
his  vast  desires  ;  and  he  always  saw  in  some  unattain- 
able desideratum  or  future  possibility,  those  ideal 
phantoms  which  increased  his  disrelish  of  his  present 
enjoyments.  This  turn  of  mind  had  indeed  one  ad- 
vantage, it  animated  him  to  perpetual  exertion.  He 
now  resolved  "  to  bend  the  stubborn  genius  of  the 
plain,  to  form  his   quincunx,  and  to   rank  his  vines," 


122  THE  REFUSAL. 

not  without  an  expectation  of  being  admired  as  the 
Palemon  '•'  who  led  the  rural  life  in  all  its  joys  and 
elegance,  such  as  Arcadian  song  transmits,"  though 
without  the  most  distant  wish  of  meeting  with  a  La- 
vinia. 

This  metamorphosis  was  however  prevented  by  the 
arrival  of  two  letters  from  London  ;  the  first  was  from 
Sir  Walter  Mandeville,  and  contained  many  dolorous 
circumstances.  "  This  London  journey,"  said  he, 
"which  I  undertook  to  please  you,  turns, out  very  ill. 
Not  that  I  dislike  town  more  than  I  expected,  for  I 
have  found  great  benefit  from  a  quack  medicine  for  my 
asthma,  and  if  people  do  laugh  at  me  they  are  too  ci- 
vil to  let  me  see  them  ;  but  Emily  don't  seem  contented, 
and  she  is  so  pale  and  thin  that  you  would  hardly  know 
her.  Her  pbvsician  talks  of  ordering  her  to  her  na- 
tive air,  and  I  believe  they  never  prescribe  air  till  they 
have  tried  every  thing  else.  She's  a  very  good  girl, 
and  if  she  dies  I  hope  I  shall  soon  follow  her,  for  La- 
dy Mackintosh  was  married  last  week.  I  never  thought 
she  could  have  overcome -her  grief  for  my  old  friend 
Jeremiah,  but  women  are  strange  creatures,  even  the 
best  of  them."  The  letter  concluded  with  several  in- 
vectives and  mournful  prognostics,  accompanied  with 
a  wish  to  see  Lord  Avondel  once  more  before  he 
died. 

The  other  letter  was  from  a  leading  member  of  ad- 
ministration, acquainting  the  earl,  that  by  his  Majes- 
ty's command,  he  informed  him  of  the  royal  wish  to 
call  him  to  his  councils,  by  nominating  him  to  an  ho- 
nourable and  efficient  situation  in  the  management  of 
public  affairs.  Lord  Avondel  decided  that  each  of 
these  despatches  required  a  pei-sonal  replv.  The  cha- 
racter of  Palemon  was  laid  on  the  shelf,  the  toils  of 
Cincinnatus  were  suspended,  and  he  alighted  from  his 
travelling  chariot  in  Berkley  square  sooner  than  an  ex- 
press could  have  announced  his  intention  of  so  do- 
ing. 

He  found  Sir  Walter  anxious  and  agitated,  but  not 
so  infirm  and  declining  as  he  supposed ;  and  from  this 


THE  REFUSAL.  123 

evident  exaggeration  of  his  fears  for  himself  he  au- 
gured favourably  with  respect  to  Emily,  to  whom  he 
immediately  turned  the  conversation.  u  Report,  my 
good  friend,1'  said  he,  "  led  me  rather  to  expect  a  bri- 
dal summons.  Lord  Glenvorne's  attachment  is  no  se- 
cret, and  we  have  fixed  the  happy  day,  and  drawn  the 
settlements,  in  Cumberland." 

"  Report,"  returned  Sir  Walter,  "  is  the  same  lying 
gossip  she  was  three  thousand  years  ago.  Lord  Glen- 
vorne certainly  is  in  love  with  Emily,  nor  will  he  take 
a  denial,  though  he  has  been  told  she  is  engaged." 

"  Engaged  !  Sir  Walter,"  said  the  earl,  starting. 

"  Yes,  my  lord,"  resumed  the  baronet,  with  much 
apparent  coolness,  "to  a  whimsical  perverse  fellow, 
who  seems  to  have  neither  love  nor  gratitude."  "  It  is 
impossible,"  resumed  the  nobleman,  "  that  Miss 
Mandeville  can  devote  her  affections  to  a  man  of  this 
description.  Allow  me  to  converse  with  her  on  the 
subject." 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  answered  Sir  Walter,  ringing 
the  bell ;  "  I  tell  you  she  saw  him  in  a  masquerade 
domino,  and  all  the  plain  suits  in  the  world  won't  drive 
him  out  of  her  head  again." 

{t  I  cannot,"  said  Lord  Avondel,  "  affect  to  doubt 
intelligence  so  flattering;  and  if  Miss  Mandeville  still 
believes  my  character  deserves  such  a  preference,  I 
have  only  to  assure  her  that  gratitude  and  love  are  as 
much  inmates  of  my  heart  as  honour  and  rectitude. 
But  I  hear  her  step,  I  must  not  wound  her  delicacy 
by  taking  her  by  surprize.  Inform  her  I  will  do  my- 
self the  honour  of  waiting  on  her  this  evening." 

"  By  the  lord  Harry,  it  shall  be  settled  directly," 
returned  Sir  Walter,  chuckling  with  heart-felt  satisfac- 
tion. 

"  You  are  caught,  general,  the  enemy  is  at  the  door 
and  your  retreat  is  cut  off.  All  you  can  do  is  to  throw 
yourself  into  that  fort,  while  I  hold  a  parley  and  treat 
for  your  surrender." 

Lord  Avondel  had  indeed  scarcely  time  to  withdraw 


124  THE  REFUSAL. 

to  a  recess  ere  Miss  Mandeville  entered,  and  asked 
her  uncle. the  reason  of  this  sudden  summons. 

"  You  will  be  the  death  of  me,"  said  he,  affecting  to 
look  terribly  furious,  while  the  broad  grin  of  delight 
distended  his  rough  features.  "  By  Jove,  I  will  make 
you  marry  directly.  So  much  about  love  and  lovers, 
they  will  twirl  my  head  off  my  shoulders." 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  Emily,  with  a  faint  smile, 
"  you  know  my  answer  to  Lord  Glenvorne." 

"  Yes,"  returned  her  guardian,  "  but  that  will  not 
do  any  longer.  The  man  in  the  moon  must  come 
forth.     You  must  say  xvho  )7ou  are  engaged  to  V 

"  Who  has  a  right  to  call  upon  me  for  such  an 
avowal  ?"  •   y 

"  Come,  come,  no  high-flying.  People,  I  tell  you, 
have  begun  to  guess.  There  has  been  a  fellow  with 
me  this  morning,  who  has  found  you  out,  and  he  tells 
me  Lord  Avondel  is  old,  proud,  discontented,  a  bank- 
rupt in  his  fortunes>  given  up  to  ill  humour,  resolved 
to  make  you  miserable." 

"  How  could  you,  sir,  listen  to  such  scurrility. — 
Why  did  you  not  order  your  footman  to  turn  the  low 
impertinent  out  of  doors  ?" 

"  Hey-day,  Emily,  why  you  are  riding  post !  Who 
but  Lord  Avondel  himself  dares  to  speak  thus  of  his 
character  ?" 

"  Lord  Avondel  in  London!"  said  Emily,  shrink- 
ing with  terror,  "  and  visited  you  this  morning  ?" 

"  Certainly,"  returned  her  uncle.  "  What  if  he  is 
come  to  prevail  on  you  to  marry  his  friend  the  young 
marquis,  would  you  refuse  him,  girl'?"  She  looked 
round  witli  astonishment,  and  met  the  respectful  glance 
of  Avondel,  who,  unable  to  see  her  thus  tormented, 
advanced  from  his  retreat,  not  with  the  proud  con- 
sciousness of  success,  but  with  that  graceful  affectation 
of  doubt  which  would  have  reassured  a  mind  less  in- 
genuous and  susceptible  than  the  timid  Emily  ;  who 
found  it  impossible  not  to  feel  overwhelmed  with  con- 
fusion, though  in  the  presence  of  him  without  whom 


THE  REFUSAL.  125 

the  world  had  appeared  a  dreary  void.     Lord  Avondel 
hastened  to  relieve  her  distress. 

"  I  am,"  said  he,  "  indeed  a  suitor,  but  not  in  the 
cause  of  another.  Sanctioned  by  your  guardian's  ap- 
probation, I  have  the  presumption  to  ask  you  to  forget 
your  brighter  prospects  for  one  who  pleads  no  desert, 
but  a  deep  sense  of  your  goodness,  and  a  determina- 
tion to  devote  to  you  that  life  which  vour  favour  would 
render  worthy  the  name  of  existence." 

Emily  trembled,  wept,  leant  on  her  uncle's  bosom, 
and  seemed  only  anxious  to  conceal  her  emotion,  which 
the  effort  made  more  visible. 

"  Take  her,  my  lord,"  said  Sir  Walter,  "  and  thank 
you  for  ridding  me  of  a  great  trouble.  But,  in  my  con- 
science I  do  think,  if  you  knew  the  plague  of  these 
girls  you  would  never  undertake  to  manage  them." 

Lord  Avondel  respectfully  pressed  the  hand  which 
Emily  silently  permitted  her  uncle  to  bestow,  and  as- 
sured him  he  so  well  knew  the  excellence  of  his  man- 
agement as  to  be  convinced  he  received  from  him  an 
inestimable  blessing. 

"  Somehow  or  other  she  has  made  me  of  that  opin- 
ion," returned  the  baronet,  folding  his  niece  to  his 
heart  with  warm  affection.  Then  resuming  an  air  of 
humorous  asperity,  "  but  come,  Emily,  now  give  us 
a  little  of  your  sex.  Play  the  hypocrite,  and  tell  my 
lord  you  detest  the  sight  of  him." 

Lord  Avondel  interposed  to  divert  Sir  Walter's  rail- 
lery. "  I  must,"  said  he,  "  exercise  the  happy  right 
you  have  conferred  upon  me,  to  insist  that  Miss  Man- 
deville  may  be  suffered  to  follow  her  own  unbiassed 
judgment.  I  will  only  be  indebted  to  herself  for  my 
future  happiness.  I  invite  myself  to  be  your  guest 
this  evening,  and  till  then  will  be  confident  of  nothing 
but  that  you  are  my  warm-hearted  advocate." 

Sir  Walter  could  only  murmur,  that   Avondel  was 

the  most  positive  man  in  the  world  ;  but  Emily  raised 

i    her  eyes  and  gave  him  a  look  of  bashful  gratitude,  as 

I,  he  retired,  while  she  felt  that  had  this  been  their  first 


126  THE  REFUSAL. 

interview  the  delicacy  of  his  behaviour  would  have 
inspired  a  permanent  attachment. 

"  So,"  said  the  earl  to  himself,  "  I  am  again  in  the 
high  road  to  wedlock.  Once  I  dreamt  of  congenial 
minds,  of  according  habits,  tempers,  tastes,  and  ages. 
'  Time,  who  has  thinned  my  flowing  hair,'  and  bade 
the  grey  somewhat  mingle  with  my  manly  brown,  has 
kindly  taught  me  lessons  of  moderation  and  prudence. 
I  must  now  meditate  on  making  provision  for  a  proper 
establishment.  Yet,  if  administration  expect  me  to 
make  any  undue  compliances  as  a  return  for  their  fa- 
vours, I  will  sooner  beg  my  wife  to  settle  on  me  an 
equivalent  for  pin-money  than  hold  an  ostensible  situ- 
ation without  the  power  of  acting  as  I  wish.  Emily 
is  docile  and  affectionate.  She  possibly  would  prefer 
retirement ;  but  it  is  not  every  woman  who  possesses 
sufficient  powers  of  mind  to  make  retirement  palata- 
ble. He  then  ruminated  on  the  prospects  which  his 
early  attachment  presented,  and  did  not  rouse  himself 
from  that  train  of  thought  till  he  arrived  at  the  pre- 
mier's. A  long  conference  terminated  in  his  consent- 
ing to  accept  the  proposed  office  ;  and  thus,  after  years 
of  disappointment  and  chagrin,  love,  wealth,  and  am- 
bition, united  to  choose  one  auspicious  day  to  shower 
upon  him  unexpected  favours. 


[  127  ] 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


"  For  you, 
I  would  be  trebled  twenty  times  myself, 
A  thousand  times  more  fair ;  ten  thousand  times 
More  rich  ;  that  to  stand  high  in  your  account, 
I  might  in  virtues,  beauties,  riches,  friends, 
Exceed  account :  but  the  full  sum  of  me 
Is  an  unlesson'd  girl,  unschool'd,  unpractis'd  : 
Happy  in  this,  she  is  not  yet  so  old 
But  she  may  learn  ;  more  happy  that  in  this 
She  is  not  bred  so  dull  but  she  can  learn  ; 
Happiest  of  all,  is,  that  her  gentle  spirit 
Commits  itself  to  you  to  be  directed 
As  from  her  lord,  her  governor,  and  king." 

Shakespear 

MISS  MANDEVILLE  received  her  uncle's  con- 
gratulations on  her  good  fortune,  mixed  with  reproach- 
es {or  having  welcomed  it  with  so  bad  a  grace,  and 
retired  to  her  chamber  almost  afraid  of  trusting  to  the 
reality  of  the  scene  which  had  just  past.  "  Is  this,''' 
said  she,  "  indeed  the  happiest  hour  of  my  life  ?  have 
I  every  reason  to  look  with  exultation  on  my  future 
prospects  ?  Then  why  these  tears  ?  why  this  self- 
abasement  ?  Is  love  so  humiliating  an  associate  to 
female  modesty,  that  it  is  impossible  for  it  to  receive 
any  exaltation  from  the  dignity  of  its  object  ?  Had  I 
volunteered  my  affections  to  a  coxcomb  I  might  have 
trembled  at  the  idea  of  being  sacrificed  to  his  vanity, 
and  becoming  the  mark  of  public  ridicule  ;  but  Lord 
Avondel  is  incapable  of  so  far  abusing  a  generous  pas- 
sion as  to  make  it  minister  to  his  self-love.  He  will 
respect  the  peace  and  honour  of  her  w  dvrew  her- 
self on  his  protection,  without  another  but  to 
|  promote  his  happiness,  and  to  be  guided  by  hi  ill. 
//  And  wh:.t  an  infinite  advantage  is  it  to  a  young  orphan, 
|.  beset  with  the  dangers  incident  to  prosperity,  to  have 

VOL.  I.  M 


128  ™E  REFUSAL. 

such  a  protector,  such  a  guide.  Shielded  by  such 
wisdom  and  goodness  no  dangers  can-  assail  me.  How 
enviable  is  my  lot !  a  life  of  elegant,  liberal  retirement, 
passed  with  a  companion  who  will  inform  my  mind 
and  direct  my  conduct !  Away  reserve,  'tis  girlish 
fastidiousness,  not  womanly  decorum.  I  will  not  add 
disingenuousness  to  any  other  unworthiness.  Lord 
Avondel  shall  know  how  entirely  his  image  occupies  my 
heart ;  and  while  I  submit  all  my  weakness  to  his  correc- 
tion, he  shall  see  it  is  my  first  ambition  to  copy  his  excel- 
lencies and  to  form  my  mind  by  his  perfect  model." 

Emily  spent  the  day  in  building  fairy  bowers  of  ru- 
ral happiness  and  domestic  tranquillity  :  and  in  con- 
firming her  resolution  of  being  perfectly  unreserved 
to  her  noble  lover  at  their  next  interview.  But  the 
stability  of  her  resolution  was  shaken  by  the  earl's 
apologizing,  with  more  ceremony  than  their  present 
situation  required,  for  obtruding  his  company  that 
evening,  without  inquiring  if  she  had  a  pre-engage- 
ment.  Could  she  tell  him  with  what  infinite  satisfac- 
tion she  would  make  every  plan  give  way  to  his 
wishes,  when  he  so  plainly  intimated  that  he  thought 
the  laws  of  female  decorum  inviolable  ?  She  could 
only  say  that  she  had  no  engagement.  Lord  Avondel 
said  something  in  praise  of  domestic  habits,  but  ad- 
ded, that  our  social  comforts  must  sometimes  yield  to 
the  sterner  obligations  of  public  duty.  He  then  stated 
the  arrangements  he  had  made  with  ministry,  and  the 
necessity  which  he  felt  of  complying  with  the  call  of 
loyalty  and  patriotism  ;  and  he  painted  the  satisfaction 
which  attended  vast  designs  and  fair  achievments  in 
such  pleasing  colours,  that  though  Emily  saw  her  fairy 
bowers  of  rural  happiness  and  domestic  tranquillity 
completely  overturned,  and  the  gargeous  palaces  of 
ambition  erected  in  their  stead,  .still,  as  the  elegant 
improving  companion  who  walked  by  her  side  through 
the  grove  was  only  exchanged-.ior  thejjiero  with  whom 
she  would  stand  on  the  pedesta^QT^gJory,  s'le  contin- 
ued infinitely  satisfied  with  her  lot,  aYid  with  all  the 
pliant:  versimilitude  of  youth  believed  "Agrippina  par- 


the  refusal.  129 

taking  the  renown  of  Germanicus,  was  quite  as  happy 
as  an  Arcadian  shepherdess  listening  to  the  pipe  of 
her  beloved. 

After  thus  giving  her  to  understand  that  she  must 
not  expect  a  great  public  character  to  dwindle  into  an 
uxorious  puppet,  governed  by  the  fears  and  fancies  of 
a  woman,  he  entered  on  a  brief  review  of  his  own  his- 
tory. He  expressed  his  hope  that  he  should  not  pre- 
judice himself  in  her  good  opinion  by  owning,  that 
when  very  young  his  heart  had  received  a  deep,  nay 
an  incurable,  wound.  Deep,  as  he  never  could  forget 
the  person  who  had  inflicted  it ;  incurable,  as  it  had 
cankered  his  temper,  transformed  his  character,  and 
compelled  him  to  be  suspicious  and  often  unjust.  He  re- 
lated the  history  I  have  already  recorded,  but  his  nar- 
rative cast  so  much  odium  on  the  perfidious  lady,  that 
Emily  was  ashamed  of  herself  for  even  supposing  it 
could  be  her  aunt   Selina. 

From  this  subject  he  turned  to  his  fortune,  and  own- 
ed that  a  title  was  a  troublesome  appendage  to  one 
whose  estate  would  barely  supply  the  wants  of  a  pri- 
vate gentleman.  Of  the  emoluments  of  his  future  of- 
fice he  spoke  like  one  who  knew  his  own  failing  too 
well  to  make  them  sufficient  for  their  incidental  ex- 
penses ;  and  he  told  her  he  should  ever  consider  them 
as  the  mere  appendages  of  his  station,  not  as  a  fund  to 
assist  the  deficiencies  of  his  private  purse,  being  re- 
solved not  to  remain  in  place  one  hour  after  honour 
and  conscience  called  upon  him  to  resign. 

He  told  Emily  that  he  durst  not  promise  her  the 
fond  solicitude,  the  unruffled  tenderness,  which  a  mind 
less  occupied  would  pay  to  her  deserts.  Would  she 
be  contented  with  his  considering  her  as  the  spotless 
sacristry  where  he  enshrined  all  his  comforts,  the  part- 
ner of  his  glorv  and  success,  or  the  secure  asvlum  to 
which  he  should  flee  when  pursued  by  envv,  calumny, 
or  disgrace  ?  Was  she  content  to  renounce  the  advan- 
tages which  her  happier  fortunes  and  blooming  years 
might  command,  to  divert  ennui,  to  soften  acrimony,  to 
nurse  indisposition  ?  All  those  evils  had  haunted  him, 


130  THE  REFUSAL. 

and  though  he  felt  a  delightful  persuasion  that  the 
charming  Emily  would  prevent  their  return,  he  knew 
his  own  fallibility,  and  he  must  warn  her  that  even 
sweetness  and  tenderness  like  hers  were  not  endued 
with  omniscient  power  to  annihilate  these  foul  fiends, 
whose  nature  was  unhappily  composed  of  imperishable 
materials. 

If  some  part  of  this  portrait  resembled  the  dark 
shades  oi  a  Rembrandt  ;  others  boasted  the  divine  ex- 
pression of  a  Carlo  Dolci ;  and  how  much  praise  was 
due  to  the  ingenuousness  of  the  painter,  who  seemed 
more  studious  to  exhibit  defects  than  excellencies.  She 
was  not  sufficiently  acquainted  with  the  world  to  know, 
that  though  the  blazing  meteor  of  distinguished  talent 
dazzled  every  distant  beholder,  the  steady  lamp  of 
cheerful  good-humour  was  a  more  agreeable  inmate. 
Summoning  all  her  courage,  she  told  Lord  Avondel 
that  a  disposition  which  abhorred  all  disguise,  and  a 
lortune  which  derived  no  support  from  base  compli- 
ances, had  been  from  her  earliest  youth  the  objects  of 
her  profound  veneration.  Her  acquaintance  with  him 
had  confirmed  this  predilection,  and  her  friends  knew 
that  her  fears  of  being  unworthy  of  his  regard  had 
preyed  upon  her  spirits.  ~  "  Disguise,  my  lord,"  she 
continued,  "  is  therefore  impossible.  But,  I  conjure 
you,  do  not  in  future  suppose,  that  because  you  have 
found  me  easy  to  win,  mine  is  a  light  and  wanton 
mind.  You  shall  find  my  constancy  as  inviolable  as  my 
preference  was  precipitate.  At  least,  never  dread  a 
rival  till  you  can  find  a  man  like  yourself,  noble,  disin- 
terested, with  every  quality  which  might  inspire  self- 
esteem,  yet  generously  refusing  to  take  any  advantage 
of  that  inexperienced  heart  which  you  must  have  dis- 
covered has  long  since  been  yours." 

The  misery  which  Lord  Avondel  had  suffered  from 
female  fickleness  induced  Miss  Mandeville  to  be  thus 
frank  in  her  declaration,  and  the  warmth  and  elegance 
of  Lord  Avondel's  acknowledgements  prevented  her 
from  reproaching  herself  for  having  gone  too  far. 
"  Suffer  me,  my  Emily,"  said  he,  "  to  plead  the  right 


THE  REFUSAL.  131 

of  a  long  attachment,  by  urging  you  to  name  an  early 
clay  to  confirm  my  title  to  so  great  a  treasure.  I  have 
been  used  to  celerity  in  the  arrangements  of  important 
transactions,  and  I  will  undertake  to  expedite  even' ne- 
cessary preparation.  As  to  settlements,  my  part  is 
easv.  I  have  only  to  sign  such  deeds  as  your  counsel 
will  think  fit  to  prepare.  If,  however,  they  are  dictated 
by  your  generous  uncle,  I  shall  claim  a  right  to  object  to 
them,  should  they  lay  me  under  too  oppressive  obliga- 
tions." Emily  was  too  humble  a  mistress  to  wish  to 
prolong  the  reign  of  female  power.  She  referred  her 
lover  to  Sir  Walter,  with  a  confidence,  she  said,  that 
her  honour  and  fortune  were  safe  in  their  care. 

One  of  the  happy  circumstances  which  resulted 
from  this  conversation  was,  that  Miss  Mandeville  felt 
herself  at  liberty  to  unbosom  her  whole  heart  to  Lady 
Selina,  to  whom  an  unaccountable  connection  of  impro- 
babilities had  lately  made  her  be  reserved.  She  imme- 
diatelv  took  her  pen,  and  called  for  her  aunt's  con- 
gratulations on  her  approaching  marriage  to  a  man  of 
rank  and  birth  superior  to  her  own,  and  superior  also 
to  the  whole  world  in  every  noble,  estimable,  and  en- 
gaging quality.  "  Can  you,"  said  she,  "  believe  that 
your  little  foolish,  fearful  niece,  destitute  of  every  shin- 
ing talent,  and  only  made  remarkable  by  the  adventiti- 
ous gifts  of  fortune,  has  really  secured  to  herself  for 
the  protector  and  guide  of  her  future  life,  a  nobleman 
on  whose  mind  avarice  and  vanity  never  made  the  least 
impression  ;  who  has  seen  the  beauties  of  every  court 
and  climate  without  being  made  a  slave  by  their  blan- 
dishments, and  who  really  thinks  an  artless,  well-inten- 
tioned girl  a  suitable  alliance  to  unparalleled  magnani- 
mity and  unblemished  fame.  Yes,  my  dear  aunt,  this 
is  the  object  on  whom  I  told  you  my  affections  Avere 
highly  set.  He  has  proved  the  reality  and  strength  of 
my  affection,  but  he  has  proved  it  in  a  manner  equally 
honourable  to  his  generosity  and  soothing  to  my  deli- 
cacy. I  feel  dignified  by  the  preference  which  I  che- 
rished, and  his  esteem  has  given  me  an  importance  in 
my  own  eyes  which  I  never  before  possessed.     If  you 

M  2 


132  THE  REFUSAL, 

have  ever  seen  the  object  of  my  attachment  you  will 
know  him  by  my  description,  if  not,  I  will  tell  you 
that  my  destined  husband,  in  whom  every  good,  every 
noble  quality,  is  centered,  is  the  Ear^  of  Avondel. 
And  my  uncle  confirms  my  choice  with  an  enthusiasm 
equal  to  my  own. 

"  But  do  not,  my  dearest  aunt,  suppose  that  my  pre- 
sent attachment  absorbs  all  those  claims  duty  and  early 
tenderness  have  inscribed  so  indelibly  on  my  soul.  It 
shall  be  inserted  in  my  marriage  articles,  that  1  will 
spend  some  weeks  every  year  at  Lime  Grove,  I  mean 
if  the  united  requests  of  myself  and  my  lord  cannot 
prevail  upon  you  to  renounce  your  solitude,  and  live 
with  us  in  London,  where  my  lord's  duty,  as  an  effici- 
ent member  of  administration,  will  oblige  us  chiefly 
to  reside.  You  shall  not  deny  my  request  on  pain  of 
my  employing  a  resistless  pleader,  who  has  governed 
courts  and  animated  senates,  guided  the  statesman  to 
wisdom  and  the  soldier  to  victory.  Nor  will  I  allow 
that  your  resolution  of  hiding  your  virtues  from  the 
wond  ought  to  be  more_durable  than  my  determina- 
tion of  continuing  single,  and  living  with  you  at  Lime 
Grove,  never  allowing  any  one  to  dispute  your  claim 
to  the  first  place  in  the  affections  of  your  still  fondly  at- 
tached and  ever  grateful  niece,  Emily  Mandeville." 

By  the  way  of  breaking  the  tedium  of  uninterrupted 
narrative,  and  to  shew  die  world  what  epistolary  trea- 
sures are  in  my  possession,  I  shall  chiefly  fill  this  chap- 
ter with  some  of  the  correspondence  which  passed  on 
this  occasion.  The  next  letter  is  from  the  Marquis  of 
Glenvorne. 

"  To  Miss  Mandeville. 
(l-  Madam, 
"  As  my  attachment  to  you  was  too  ardent  to  allow 
me  to  attempt  to  subdue  it  while  a  hope  remained  that 
respectful  perseverance  might  render  it  successtui,  so 
it  is  too  disinterested  to  wound  your  generosity  by  per- 
sisting in  a  suit  which  I  know  to  be  desperate.  The 
Earl  of  Avondel  has  just  convinced  me  of  the  futility 


THE  REFUSAL.  133 

of  every  pretension  which  disputes  his  prior  claim  to 
your  regard.  I  resign  you,  madam  ;  but  the  pang  of 
relinquishing  what  has  long  been  the  first  wish  of  my 
heart  is  absorbed  by  the  conviction  that  there  has  been 
a  peculiar  felicity  in  your  fate.  You  have  had  an  op- 
portunity of  selecting  the  worthiest,  and  you  have  also 
had  the  judgment  to  discern  who  that  person  was 
whose  congenial  mind  and  superior  virtues  are  best 
adapted  to  your  own  deserts.  Nor  shall  my  congratu- 
lations be  less  sincere  because  I  fancy  that  my  own  lot 
might  have  been  happier  had  you  never  seen  him  with 
whom  I  own  contention  would  be  vain.  It  is  my  boast 
to  possess  the  friendship  of  Lord  Avondel,  and  my 
mother  joins  me  in  requesting  a  place  in  your  esteem 
through  his  intercession.  As  the  wife  of  mv  friend 
you  will  ever  command  the  lively  respect  and  faithful 
service  of,  madam, 

"  Your  most  devoted  servant, 

"  Glenvorne." 

I  think  it  is  observed,  that  in  the  disease  called  the 
calenture  the  seaman's  earnest  desire  for  those  green 
fields  and  shady  bowers  which  he  fancies  would  relieve 
his  sufferings  takes  such  possession  of  his  perturbed 
mind,  that  he  sees  nothing  roand  him  but  those  de- 
lightful objects.  Thus  in  the  respectful  farewel  of 
Lord  Glenvorne,  the  enamoured  Emily  only  saw  the 
merits  and  praises  of  her  Avondel.  "  How  carefully," 
said  she,  "  does  he  guard  my  character  from  indeco- 
rum. He  urges  a  prior  claim  to  Glenvorne,  founded 
on  our  meeting  at  Mandeville  Castle.  His  prudence 
and  delicacy  will  thus  ever  shield  my  indiscreet  preci- 
pitation. The  winds  of  heaven  can  never  visit  my 
face  too  roughly.  Surely,  I  am  transported  into  some 
paradise.  Can  this  be  the  world's  chequered  maze  ? 
Can  this  be  the  labyrinth  in  which  virtue  toils  and  suf- 
fers ?  I  fear  my  delirium  of  full  content  cannot  last 
long  ;   I  feel  I  am  too  happy  I" 

A  few  days  (during  which  the  nuptial  preparations 
went  on  with  equal  eclat  and  celerity)  brought  her  a 


134  THE  REFUSAL 

letter  from  Lime-Grove,  which  is  of  importance  to  the 
history. 

"  May  every  blessing  attend  the  nuptial  engagement 
of  my  dearest  Emily;  I  would  say,  complete  as  her 
own  impassioned  fancy  paints,  but  as  romantic  expec- 
tation is  often  a  source  of  disappointment  and  misery, 
I  will  not  mislead  my  beloved  girl,  but  will  say,  perfect 
as  the  chances  of  this  state  of  mutability  and  the  weak- 
ness of  human  virtue  w.ill  afford.  I  have  seen  the  earl 
of  Avondel,  my  child,  and  I  subscribe  to  your  high 
but  just  encomium.  Sir  Walter  fulfils  the  part  of  a 
faithful  guardian  by  committing  you  to  the  care  of  a 
husband  of  such  unblemished  worth. 

"  Be  not  alarmed  at  the  shortness  of  this  letter,  I 
have  had  a  slight  return  of  my  complaint,  and  am  now 
so  nervous  that  I  am  forced  to  have  recourse  to  my  old 
recipe  of  perfect  quietness.  You  know  at  such  times 
I  could  not  even  bear  your  company. 

"  Let  me,  however,  intreat  you  to  observe  my  pre- 
cautionai:v  injunctions.  Do  not  stipulate  for  an  annual 
visit  to  Lime  Grove,  nor  even  mention  my  name  to 
Lord  Avondel  till  you  have  been  his  wife  long  enongh 
to  discover  ever}-  peculiarity  in  his  temper.  Even  the  best 
and  wisest  are  not  free  from  shades  of  error,  and  my  long 
knowledge  of  the  world  has  enabled  me  to  discover, 
that  very  sensible  men  are  often  most  averse  to  their 
wives  having  any  very  strong  female  friendships  or 
confidential  intimacies.  Besides,  I  was  once  much 
talked  of,  and  I  have  cause  to  fear  Lord  Avondel  has 
imbibed  the  general  prejudice  against  me.  He  might, 
therefore,  even  think  less  favourably  of  you,  if  he  knew 
the  ties  which  subsisted  between  us.  I  do  not  require 
you  to  subdue  your  affection  for  me ;  it  is  the  consola- 
tion of  my  life,  and  I  know  our  love  is  so  deeply  root- 
ed that  it  may  silently  subsist  in  our  hearts  till  a  fit  op- 
portunity permits  us  to  exercise  its  duties  and  assert  its 
rights.  When  you  have  long  observed  Lord  Avondel 
in  that  near  point  of  view  which  your  intimate  connec- 
tion permits,  when  time  and  trial  have  convinced  him, 
of  my  dear  child's  intrinsic  worth,  when  your  inclina- 


THE  REFUSAL.  135 

tions  and  pursuits  are  become  similar  from  habit,  and 
your  rooted  affection  rests  upon  a  basis  which  cannot 
be  subverted,  it  will  be  time  enough  to  introduce  such 
a  friend  as  you,  my  dearest  Emily,  will  ever  find  in 
your  faithful  Selina  Deiamore." 

This  letter  somewhat  interrupted  Miss  Mandeville's 
dr  >ms  of  unruffled  felicity.  I  do  not  say  that  it  took 
her  out  of  her  hymeneal  paradise,  but  it  certainly  led 
her  to  the  mount  of  vision,  and  gave  her  a  view  of  the 
perplexities  and  vexations  with  which  the  world 
abounds.  Lord  Avondel,  her  all-perfect  lover,  to 
conceive  a  prejudice  against  her  all-perfect  aunt ;  the 
two  dearest  and  best  of  beings  to  dislike  one  another  ; 
— It  was  very  astonishing  :  and,  really,  independent- 
ly of  the  conviction  that  this  mutual  enmity  would  in- 
terrupt her  own  happiness,  it  would  be  a  most  chris- 
tian office  to  attempt  to  reconcile  them.  At  least,  every 
principle  of  justice,  regard  to  her  lord's  character,  and 
attachment  to  his  person,  required  her  to  combat  her 
aunt's  opinion,  that  his  abhorrence  of  her  was  so  root- 
ed as  to  be  even  capable  of  shaking  his  affection  for 
his  young  bride,  when  informed  of  her  having  been 
educated  under  Lady  Selina's  auspices.  She  could  on- 
ly ascribe  this  notion  to  the  effects  of  that  infirmity  of 
which  her  aunt  complained.  Indisposition  clouds  the 
serenest  mind  with  phantoms  of  spleen,  and  when  our 
bodies  are  in  snch  a  state  that  the  soul  quarrels  with 
its  companion,  she  is  very  apt  to  extend  her  animosity 
to  the  rest  of  her  species,  at  least  to  believe  that  we  are 
as  disagreeable  to  others  as  we  are  to  ourselves. 
In  this  persuasion  Miss  Mandeville  addressed  Lady 
Selina. 

"  My  dearest  aunt, 

"  Had  you  not  informed  me   that  you  are  unwell  I 

should  have  discovered  it  in   the  style  of  a   letter  so 

evidently  dictated  by  languor  and  dejection  ;  and,  in- 

.  deed,  I  am  now  convinced  of  the  truth  of  the  obser- 

w      vation  which   I   have  often  heard  you  make,  that  the 

most  elevated  minds,  and  the   happiest  tempers,  are 


136  THE  REFUSAL. 

not  always  able  to  resist  the  depression  and  dissatisfac- 
tion which  results  from  a  life  of  total  seclusion.  This 
makes  me  more  anxious  that  you  should  change  your 
plan  ;  and  though  I  dare  do  no  other  than  obey  your  in- 
junctions, I  must  hope  you  will  soon  cancel  them,  and 
bless  me  with  seeing  the  two  people  I  best  love  united 
in  that  strict  friendship  which  all  whoknotv  them  must 
believe  them  born  to  cherish  for  each  other. 

"  My  dearest  aunt,  you  are  above  listening  to  the  idle 
reports  of  tale  bearers  ;  whence  then  comes  this  con- 
viction, that  my  lord  is  prejudiced  against  you  ?  I  am 
now  assured  you  have  only  seen  him  ;  for  if  you  knew 
his  worth  you  would  conclude,  that  candour,  liberality, 
and  a  wise  disdain  of  mean  suspicions,  are  his  ruling 
qualities.  Even  when  he  has  been  basely  used,  or  in 
cases  wherein  he  has  witnessed  very  censurable  beha- 
viour, this  admirable  disposition  does  not  forsake  him. 
I  can  mention  two  instances.  He  will  scarcely  allow 
the  extreme  malevolence  of  Lady  Mackintosh's  cha- 
racter, though,  since  I  have  had  the  courage  to  speak 
to  him  freely,  I  have  told  him  how  cruelly  she  used 
me  on  his  account.  The  other  case  is  still  stronger. 
He  has  told  me,  that  in  early  life  he  experienced  a 
most  cruel  disappointment  from  a  lady  to  whom  he  was 
fondly  attached.  The  day  was  fixed,  the  settlements 
finished  ;  every  point  was  arranged,  when,  without 
any  alleged  misconduct  on  his  part,  or  the  least  con- 
sciousness of  having  acted  reprehensibly,  this  fickle, 
treacherous  woman  renounced  him  forever.  He  has 
suffered  so  much  from  this  event,  that  he  calls  it  the 
sera  of  misery,  pi'oducing  a  complete  change  in  his 
temper  and  habits.  Yet  will  he  not  divulge  the  name 
of  the  unworthy  creature,  and  he  assures  me  he  has 
avoided  making  any  inquiry  after  her,  because  he  will 
not  gratify  the  impressions  of  resentment  by  hearing 
of  the  misery  which  must  be  her  portion. 

"  Can  you  believe  that  a  man  who  thinks  and  acts  in 
this  manner  is  capable  of  cherishing  an  unfounded 
prejudice  against  you?  and  that  of  so  strong  a  kind  as 
even  to  affect  the  artless  girl  who  owes  every  laudable 


THE  REFUSAL.  137 

quality  to  your  care?  No,  indeed:  the  black  fiend  me- 
lancholy, whom  I  and  the  doctors  used  to  scare,  has 
again  been  flapping  her  bats  wings  over  Lime  Grove. 
You  have  been  living  by  yourself,  my  dearest  aunt. 
Humility  has  read  you  too  many  homilies.  You  want 
me  to  put  you  in  mind  of  your  virtues  and  talents.  In- 
deed, I  will  soon  see  you,  and  I  hope  you  will  allow 
me  to  be  better  qualified  for  your  eulogist  now  I  have 
lived  in  the  world,  and  seen  virtues  indisputably  of  a 
superior  cast.  In  every  thing  Lord  Avondel  realizes 
those  ideas  of  magnanimity  and  honour  which  many 
fancy  are  fabulous.  He  has  refused  the  nuptial  settle- 
ment which  our  counsel  say  is  always  made  by  heiresses 
on  their  bridegrooms.  He  says  he  is  become  unexpect- 
edly wealthy  by  felling  some  timber  which  really  en- 
cumbered his  estate,  and  by  compelling  his  steward  to 
disburse  his  peculations.  He  hinted  somewhat  of  in- 
decorum in  such  an  arrangement,  and  that  word  always 
silences  me.  But  he  has  intreated  me  to  place  my 
name  as  patroness  of  two  charities,  one  in  the  north, 
the  other  in  London,  and  to  accompany  my  signature 
with  magnificent  donations.  He  only  permits  himself 
to  enjoy  the  income  of  my  fortune.  He  will  allow  of 
no  contingent  settlements,  to  vest  the  perpetuity  in  him, 
and  he  has  angrily  forbidden  my  uncle  to  act  upon  his 
intention  of  bequeathing  him  the  Mandeville  estate. 
He  assigns  as  his  reason,  that  such  a  perversion  of  pro- 
perty would  only  give  his  enemies  an  opportunity  of 
scandalizing  his  honour,  as  it  would  compel  him  to  do 
an  ostentatious,  and  therefore  equivocal,  act  of  jus- 
tice, by  immediately  restoring  it  to  the  lineal  heirs. 

"  Even  in  comparatively  trivial  arrangements,  Lord 
Avondel  acts  by  the  same  loftv  principles.  He  has 
presented  me  with  his  mother's  jewels.  He  calls  me 
his  Emily  now,  "  My  Emily,"  said  he,  "  they  are  a 
parsimonious  gift  considered  as  the  present  of  a  nabob, 
but  I  had  no  passion  for  diamonds,  and  you  will  value 
these  as  coming  from  unsoiled  hands,  and  from  their 
having  adorned  women  of  illustrious  birth  and  un- 
tainted honour.     Their  last  possessor  was  eminently 


138  THE  REFUSAL. 

graced  with  all  the  passive  virtues."  His  eyes  shone 
with  tears  as  he  spoke.  How  admirable  is  filial  piety, 
how  does  it  confirm  all  my  hopes  of  happiness  ! 

"  He  told  me  they  were  new  set  about  twenty  years 
ago  for  an  event  which  never  happened.  He  had  then 
exercised  his  own  taste,  he  wished  me  now  to  consult 
mine  in  alterations.  I  shall  wear  them  as  they  are,  for 
the  style  is  extremely  elegant ;  and  among  them  are  an 
aigrette  and  solitaire  so  like  those  worn  by  you  in  the 
miniature  you  gave  me  at  Lime  Grove,  that  I  must 
preserve  what  will  make  me  fancy  I  resemble  you,  ere 
indisposition  and  sorrow  anticipated  the  ravages  of 
time  in  your  fiae  countenance. 

"  My  uncle  (worthy  man)  is  almost  frantic  with  ec- 
stacy.  He  says  he  can  live  without  me,  as  joy  has 
cured  the  gout  and  asthma,  and  almost  removed  the 
cannon  ball  from  his  shoulder.  He  gives  up  his  house 
in  Berkley  square  to  my  lord,  and  retires  to  Mande- 
ville  Castle  immediately  after  the  ceremony.  We  are 
to  make. an  excursion  to  the  north  to  introduce  me  to 
my  lord's  connections,  but  we  must  not  be  long  absent, 
as  the  winter  will  call  him  to  the  active  discharge  of 
the  important  duties  of  his  high  office.  I  sometimes 
doubt  my  own  capability  of  appearing  with  propriety 
as  the  wife  of  a  great  public  character ;  but  I  shall 
have  such  a  supporter  as  few  can  boast.  Perhaps  you 
will  smile  when  I  tell  you,  that  I  am  already  exalted 
into  a  very  sublime  dignified  personage.  The  respect 
and  deference  with  which  my  lord  treats  me,  makes 
my  acquaintance  consider  me  in  a  different  point  of 
view  from  what  they  used  to  do,  and  I  really  feel  that 
I  am  no  longer  an  unimportant  romantic  girl.  Lucy 
Selwyn  objected  to  the  dress  I  had  chosen  to  be  pre- 
sented in,  and  recommended  one  with  a  fuller  pattern. 
She  applied  to  my  lord  as  umpire,  and  insisted  that 
carnations  on  a  lilac  ground  looked  nobler  than  lilies  of 
the  valley  on  pale  blue  :  '  lis  a  point,'  said  he,  '  of 
which  I  cannot  judge,  yet  sure  innate  nobleness  is  best 
contrasted  by  simplicity.'  He  smiled  when  I  said  I 
was  very  partial  to  woodland  lilies. 


THE  REFUSAL  139 

"  The  other  evening  Captain  Brazely  made  some 
impertinent  remarks  on  my  veneration  for  wisdom  and 
experience.  I  knew  how  much  the  maxims  of  false 
honour  are  obeyed,  and  I  trembled  lest  my  lord  should 
hear  him.  But  true  courage  is  not  ostentatiously  que- 
rulous. '  Miss  Mandeville,'  said  he,  'the  captain  pays 
you  a  compliment,  but  it  requires  a  little  explanation. 
It  implies  that,  as  you  are  certain  of  being  most  va- 
lued by  those  who  have  seen  and  reflected  most,  so 
you  shew  a  just  confidence  in  yourself  by  endeavouring 
to  secure  their  approbation.'  He  then  conversed  with 
the  greatest  ease  with  the  captain  about  his  own  affairs, 
and  the  coxcomb  now  boasts  that  he  is  in  high  favour 
with  Lord  Avondel,  whom  he  styles  the  best  bred  man 
in  Europe. 

"  I  know  custom  requires  common-place  gallantry 
from  lovers,  but  in  my  absence  he  speaks  of  me  with  a 
sort  of  holy  reverence,  as  if  all  I  did  or  said  was  in 
truth  '  wisest,  virtuousest,  discreetest,  best.'  He  thus 
gives  me  an  elevation  of  character  which  I  fear  I  shall 
never  support,  I  mean  when  he  is  not  present,  and  the 
world  has  too  many  claims  upon  him  to  allow  me  his 
uninterrupted  society.  Thus  am  I  led  back  to  the 
wish  with  which  I  commenced  this  epistle.  My  dear- 
est aunt,  come  and  guide  the  orphan  your  tenderness 
saved  from  an  early  grave.  You  cherished  my  feeble 
frame,  you  corrected  my  early  errors  ;  come  and  ren- 
der me  worthy  of  the  affection,  and  certain  of  securing 
the  esteem,  of  the  faultless  Avondel.  Such,  in  spite 
of  your  intimations,  I  know  I  shall  ever  consider  the 
aftan  who  in  a  few  days  will  be  the  husband  of  your 
ever  grateful  and  happy 

Emily  Mandeville." 

I  am  now  forced  to  acknowledge,  that  the  something 
which  nobody  liked,  which  every  body  saw,  and  which 
no  soul  could  account  for,  in  Lady  Selina,  induced  her 
to  behave  in  a  most  singular  way  on  receiving  -his  let- 
ter ;  and  as  I  am  not  bound  to  write  a  chapter  of  te^rs 
and  sighs,  or  to  analyze  all  her  feeiings,  I   must  give 

vol.  1.  N 


140  THE  REFUSAL 

her  up  to  those  who  assert,  that  the  tidings  of  a  happy 
marriage  operate  on  an  old  maid  exactly  like  vinegar 
poured  upon  nitre.  As  I  wish  her,  however,  to  pre- 
serve some  small  portion  of  esteem,  I  will  not  have  it 
supposed,  that  though  she  might  long  be  a  countess 
herself,  she  actually  hated  Emily,  or  wished  her  the 
future  evils  which  single  sybils  are  always  said  to  dis- 
cover on  these  occasions,  by  a  faculty  similar  to  second 
sight.  Her  niece's  letter  determined  Lady  Selina  in 
two  points,  first  to  avoid  the  earl  of  Avondel,  and  next 
to  take  the  earliest  opportunity  of  urging  the  fair  bride 
to  restrain  her  exhuberant  sensibility-  If  my  readers 
can  ascribe  these  resolutions  to  any  other  motive  than 
ill-nature,  envy,  or  obstinacy,  I  will  compliment  them 
for  possessing  an  extraordinary  share  of  candour  and 
discernment. 

I  pass  over  the  bridal  ceremony,  to  which  only  the 
pen  of  a  Richardson  could  do  justice.  Suffice  it  to  say, 
as  long  a  string  of  carriages  attended,  and  those  carri- 
ages filled  with  as  many  noble  lords  and  beautiful  la- 
dies, as  accompanied  Sir  Charles  Grandison  and  his 
interesting  Harriet  to  the  altar.  After  as  elegant  a  de- 
jeune  as  ever  the  Morning  Post  immortalized,  the 
happy  pair  were  bound  in  the  indissoluble  bond,  and, 
according  to  immemorial  custom,  set  off  in  a  chariot 
and  six,  with  four  out-riders  stuck  round  with  white  fa- 
vours, no  matter  whither.  The  event  was  announced 
in  all  the  public  prints.  The  bride's  paraphernalia  were 
exhibited  at  the  most  celebrated  milliner's,  nuptial  pre- 
sents were  distributed,  and  cards  sent  out  in  due  form. 
Thus  far  Lord  Avondel  proved  a  strict  conformist  to 
the  manners  of  the  world,  for  he  thought  it  unwise  to 
provoke  hostility  by  a  pointed  disobedience  to  its  es- 
tablished forms. 


[   141   ] 


INTRODUCTORY  CHAPTER. 


A  pleasing  land  of  drowsy-head  it  was  ; 

Of  dreams  that  wave  before  the  half-shut  eye  ; 
And  of  gay  castles  in  the  sun  that  pass, 

For  ever  flashing;  round  a  summer  sky  ; 
There  eke  the  soft  delights  that  witchingly 

Ins-til  a  wanton  sweetness  through  the  breast, 
And  the  calm  pleasures  always  hover'd  nigh  ; 

But  what'ere  smack'd  of  noyance  or  unrest 
Was  far,  far  orfcxpeil'd  from  this  delicious  nest. 

Thomson. 

THE  experience  of  near  six  thousand  years  has 
fully  proved  the  advantages  of  occasional  repose  to  all 
the  tribes  of  animated  nature,  and  it  would  be  equally 
hard  and  singular  if  that  class  of  beings  denominated 
authors  should  be  denied  the  benefit  of  occasional 
slumber,  without  peril  of  being  indicted  for  high 
crimes  and  misdemeanors  at  the  tribunal  of  criticism, 
and  sentenced  to  endure  that  species  of  literary  fla- 
gellation which  is  at  least  sure  to  remove  all  inclination 
to  somnolency.  I  know  not  whether  it  be  determined 
that  we  are  lusus  natures^  and,  on  that  account,  form- 
ing an  exception  to  those  general  laws  of  creation 
which  require  that  exertion  should  be  followed  by  re- 
pose ?  or  whether  a  desire  for  those  refreshments  which 
in  other  creatures  conduce  to  the  health  and  comfort  of 
animal  life,  be  with  us  a  real  indication  of  disease  and 
danger,  on  account  of  which  our  skilful  censors,  like 
wise  physicians  in  some  species  of  fever,  ward  of 
drowsiness,  as  the  harbinger  of  death.  The  critics 
indeed  reply,  that  they  have  no  objections  to  natural 
slumbers,  or  to  allow  authors  to  wish  their  readers 
good  night,  and  lay  themselves  up  till  they  are  in  ab- 
solute possession  of  their  faculties  ;  but  that,  if  they 
will  continue  to  write,  and  protest  they  are  awake, 
when  'tis  evident  to  every  observer  that  they  are  under 


142  THE  REFUSAL. 

the  influence  of  Morpheus,  they  ought  to  be  treated 
like  other  sleep-walkers,  and  be  blistered  and  physick- 
ed into  the  habit  of  lying  quiet. 

The  fallaciousness  of  this  observation  is  apparent  to 
all  who  have  paid  any  attention  to  the  anatomy  and 
constitution  of  an  author,  (a  modern  one  I  mean,)  to 
whose  existence  constant  writing  is  as  necessary  as  con- 
tinual breathing  is  to  other  people,  and  who  may  be 
said  to  cease  to  live  the  moment  they  lay  down  their 
pens.  For  as  she  whose  offspring  die  in  the  first 
month  of  their  existence  must  continue  to  produce  or 
else  relinquish  the  name  of  a  mother,  so  the  parents 
of  those  mouldering  carcases  that  lie  entombed  in  the 
back  warehouses  of  circulating  libraries,  preserve  the 
frail  tenure  of  their  own  reputation  rather  by  what  is 
expected  from  them  than  by  what  they  have  actually 
brought  forth,  and  find  a  literary  accouchement  every 
season  the  only  way  of  being  reckoned  among  living- 
authors.  Formerly,  indeed,  when,  owing  either  to 
the  profoundness  of  authors  or  the  stupidity  of  read- 
ers, a  second  or  third  perusal  was  necessary  before  a 
book  could  be  undertood,  and  its  valuable  contents 
clearly  transfused  into  the  mind  of  the  student,  the 
the  pen  was  not  pledged  to  this  unremitting  labour. 

But  a  still  severer  task  was  then  imposed  upon  eve- 
ry instructor  of  the  public  ;  all  were  expected  to  bring 
positive  credentials  of  science  or  talent ;  and  as  the 
intervals  of  writing  was  expected  to  be  devoted  to 
thinking  and  reading.  I  protest  our  condition  seems 
improved  by  our  emancipation  from  this  harsh  law. — 
We  are  now  only  required  to  fill  a  certain  number  of 
sheets  for  each  migration  of  fashion  ;  that  is,  for  the 
world  coming  up  to  London,  or  for  the  world's  going 
down  to  the  summer  bathing  places  ;  for  the  former, 
something  that  may  be  read  in  a  hurry  for  the  first 
season,  and  for  the  latter,  something  that  will  keep 
them  awake  under  the  soporific  influence  of  driving 
over  the  same  sands  or  lounging  at  the  same  booksel- 
lers'. If  we  succeed  in  this  latter,  our  business  is 
complete. 


THE  REFUSAL.  143 

The  astonishing  enlargement  of  the  human  capacity 
whidi  we  old  Grecians  in  literature  have  lived  to  be- 
hold, proves  the  vast  utility  of  this  perpetual  succes- 
sion of  novelties.  Formerly,  no  one  ventured  to  talk 
of  a  book  on  which  they  had  not  deeply  pondered, 
now,  though  every  body  sets  up  for  an  universal  judge 
as  well  as  reader,  few  do  more  than  skim  the  cream  of 
every  production,  which,  thanks  to  the  perspicuity  of 
the  writer  and  printer,  may  be  done  as  rapidly  as  we 
cut  the  leaves.  A  friend  of  mine,  who  has  the  cha- 
racter of  a  hard  student,  and  writes  the  literary  de- 
partment of  a  magazine,  limits  herself  to  the  perusal 
of  six  volumes  a  morning,  which  she  gets  through  with 
such  ease,  that  she  assures  me  she  could  cut  up  as 
many  more  only  she  is  afraid  of  injuring  her  eyes. — 
She  misses  very  little  except  the  natural  philosophy  and 
morality,  which  she  says  is  always  of  the  same  sort. 
Considering  the  rate  at  which  she  travels,  I  must  do 
her  the  justice  to  say  she  is  extremely  fortunate  in  her 
guesses,  rarely  misunderstanding  her  author  so  much 
but  that,  when  you  read  her  criticism,  you  will  find  as 
near  a  resemblance  as  between  some  eminent  public 
characters  and  their  caricatures  in  a  print  shop,  which 
I  admit  to  be  a  sufficient  likeness. 

Unless,  therefore,  we  belong  to  that  enviable  class 
of  our  community  who  write  books  of  riddles,  analyse 
popular  games,  or  compose  songs  for  new  music,  we 
must  never  presume  to  answer  the  continual  demand 
for  something  new  by  requesting  the  world  to  pick  out 
a  few  morsels  from  among  the  undigested  fragments  of 
our  last  regale.  The  insult  would  be  as  gross  as  to 
place  hashed  mutton  and  broiled  drumsticks  before  a 
gourmand,  or  to  present  a  rural  belle  with  a  last  year's 
turban.  Without  adverting  to  hard  times  and  heavy 
taxes,  or  descending  to  the  trite  inapplicable  jests  of 
Tuinger  and  poverty  (so  ill  suited  to  the  present  race 
of  writers,  who  shew  by  their  works  that  they  con- 
verse with  no  one  below  the  rank  of  a  baronet,  and  are 
versed  in  all  the  nice  arcana  of  polite  life)  this  voraci- 
ous appetite  in  readers  binds  us,  who  cater  and  cook 
N  2 


144  riIE  REFUSAL. 

for  the  public,  like  Ixion,  to  a  never-resting  wheel , 
and  as  we  are  absolutely  forbidden  to  stand  still,  I 
trust  we  may  have  permission  to  plead  the  infirmity  of 
our  nature,  and  be  allowed  to  publish  our  dreams. — 
Nay,  we  hope  the  frequency  of  our  naps  will  rather 
be  ascribed  to  our  extreme  avidity  to  gratify  our  read- 
ers, than  to  indifference  to  their  approbation. 

Having  thus  asserted  the  right,  by  proving  the  ne- 
cessity, of  an  author's   dozing,  I  might  enlarge  upon 
the  various   advantages   resulting  from  that  practice, 
but  shall  confine  myself  to  one,  which  is  in  such  high 
estimation  as  to  swallow  up  ail  others,  I  mean  expedi- 
tion.    I  do  not  refer  to   the   inconceivable  celerity  of 
thought   and  imagination  when  we   are  actually  enjoy- 
ing bodily  repose  ;  the  benefit  I  allude  to  results  from 
a  total  absence  of  those  faculties,  and   simply  means 
the  mechanical  velocity  with  which  the  pen  is  known 
to  move  when   the   writer  is  entirely   disburthened  of 
ideas,  and  unrestrained   by  judgment ;  and  the  rapi- 
dity with  which  a  reader  gets  through  a  book  after  he 
has  discovered  that  the  author  really  has  no  .meaning. 
Under  these  circumstances,  it  may  be  hoped  that  we 
shall  yet   see   a  thicker  harvest  of  literature.     A  fine 
gentleman  might  compose  a  farce  without  injuring  his 
constitution,  and  a  lady  of  fashion  write  a  sonnet  with- 
out bringing  on   a  nervous   fever  ;  and  as  gaping  in 
company  is  known  to  be  infectious,  may  we  not  hope 
that  works  composed  under  a  soporific   influence  will 
reunite   the   two-fold   attributes   anciendy  ascribed   to 
Apollo,  and  induce  physicians,  instead  of  proscribing 
study  to  recommend  it  as  one  of  their  infallible  narco- 
tics, so  that  hereafter  we   may  hear  of  two  pages  of 
poetry  and  three  of  prose  being  ordered  as  a  night 
draught  instead    of  paregoric  or    laudanum  ?     What 
infinite  advantages  will  not  the  public  derive  from  hav- 
ing   mischievous   activity  thus  innocently   employed, 
and   how  much   must  parents   and  masters   rejoice  at 
seeing  a  choice  spirit  or  a  bel  esprit  thus  charmed  into 
quietness?     What   a  golden   aerA  too  will  this    be   for 
myself  and  all  the  humbler  votories  of  the  muse,  when, 


THE  REFUSAL.  145 

besides  the  public  being  compelled  to  take  our  works, 
certain  gentlemen  who  have  lately  made  much  noise 
in  the  world  will  absolutely  be  ruined.  For  let  people 
say  what  they  please  about  their  verses,  'tis  certain, 
like  Macbeth,  "  they  murder  the  innocent  sleep,"  and, 
however  distilled  or  disguised,  can  never  be  used  as 
lullabies. 

I  might  here  say  something  respecting  the  antiquity 
of  the  practice  of  literaiy  dozing,  and  prove,  that  in 
those  venerable  remains  which  have  descended  to  us 
uninjured  by  the  lapse  of  ages,  we  may  discover  in- 
dubitable proofs,  that  the  poppy  was  always  permitted 
to  hold  a  place  in  the  garland  of  bays.  But  it  is  not  very 
prudent  for  us  moderns  to  put  our  readers  in  mind  of 
the  ancients,  who  seem  to  have  been  an  austere  race  of 
people,  and  if  ever  they  indulged  in  a  little  drowsiness 
it  was  only,  like  the  halt  of  a  race-horse,  that  they 
might  recover  their  breath  and  rouse  their  faculties  to 
more  vigorous  exertion.  I  do  not  advise  my  contem- 
poraries to  nod  like  Homer,  who  wakens  with  his  own 
Jupiter,  and  lays  about  him  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
harrow  the  nerves  of  his  readers  ;  nor  would  I  have 
them  dream  with  Livy,  who  puts  so  much  of  the  ter- 
rible into  his  visions,  that  one  is  as  much  agitated  by 
them  as  by  waking  truths.  When  people  read  to  gain 
information,  or  to  lighten  the  toils  of  business,  these 
stimuli  were  necessary,  but  now,  since  we  only  want  a 
book  to  kill  time,  to  fill  up  the  pauses  of  dissipation, 
or  (if  it  be  a  work  of  repute,)  to  say  we  have  read  it, 
every  thing  which  impedes  despatch,  or  fixes  atten- 
tion, should  be  avoided.  We  should  therefore  manage 
the  transitions  from  sleeping  to  waking  with  such  per- 
fect equanimity  of  style,  and  glide  from  dreaming  to 
prosing  with  such  quiet  movements,  that  we  may  never 
disturb  the  repose  of  our  readers,  nor  afford  them  a 
criterion  to  judge  of  the  duration  of  our  own. 

I  am  aware  I  give  the  critics  great  advantage  by  my 
ingenuousness,  and  I  anticipate  a  thousand  such  trite 
witticisms  as  that,  my  works  are  written  to  exemplify 
and  my  rules  fabricated  to  put  off  my  works.     I  will 


146  TIIE  REFUSAL 

allow  them  to  say,  "  poor  old  Mrs.  Prudentia  confesses 
she  has  fallen  into  a  lethargy,"  and  that  a  they  heartily 
wish  her  a  long  good-night."  I  only  beg  to  assure 
them,  that  my  partiality  for  my  own  productions  has 
not  made  me  unjust  to  their  lucubrations,  and  that  I 
should  not  have  dared  to  recommend  somnolency  to 
authors  had  I  not  detected  their  worships  nodding  upon 
the  bench,  and  not  only  passiflg  sentence  when  they 
knew  not  what  they  were  about,  but  actually  continu- 
ing in  such  a  profound  trance,  that  all  the  remonstrances 
of  an  infuriated  author  clamouring  for  justice  could 
not  dissolve  it,  nor  restore  them  to  such  a  limited  use 
of  their  faculties  as  to  say  why  they  put  words  into  his 
mouth  which  he  did  not  utter,  or  drew  conclusions 
from  his  arguments  which  he  pointedly  disavowed.  I 
know  the  enemies  of  these  disciples  of  Zoilus  say,  that, 
like  morose  husbands  when  they  feign  themselves 
asleep,  they  are  only  suiky ;  but  as  I  am  a  staunch  ad- 
vocate for  these  gentlemen,  in  gratitude  for  their  mark- 
ed liberality  to  me,  I  must  insist,  that  it  is  impossible 
to  analyze  modern  literatm'e  in  the  gross  without  re- 
ceiving as  much  injury  from  its  soporific  effluvia  as 
chymists  do  from  preparing  opium.  Besides  this,  a 
reviewer  is  subject  to  many  indigenous  diseases  pecu- 
liar to  the  soil  on  which  he  is  bred,  especially  that  la- 
mentable complaint,  a  party  fever,  which  is  not  only  ac- 
companied with  an  inversion  of  the  optic  nerves,  unac- 
countable nauseas,  frantic,  delirious  incoherent  ravings, 
and  other  dreadful  symptoms,  aggravated  by  total  in- 
sensibility to  his  own  situation,  but  often  ends  in  a 
coma  or  morbid  sleepiness  which  no  admonitions,  hu- 
man or  divine,  nor  even  the  crush  of  nature  and  the 
fall  of  worlds,  could  terminate.  Now,  as  writing  is 
found  to  have  the  same  effect  upon  this  disorder  as 
copious  perspiration  has  upon  most  febrile  cases,  and 
as  the  unhappy  sufferers  can  continue  to  use  their  pens 
to  the  last  stage  of  the  disease,  and  even  find  some  re- 
lief to  their  sufferings  by  recording  their  delirious  con- 
jectures, I  think  we  ought  to  look  with  more  compas- 
sion than  indignation  on  those  lucubrations  which  tend 


THE  REFUSAL.  147 

to  shew  the  advantages  of  despotism,  and  the  honour 
and  generosity  of  Napoleon  :  which  teach  us  that  the 
best  wav  of  acquiring  habits  of  laborious  research  and 
dispassionate  investigation  is  to  devote  our  time  to  dis- 
sipation, and  instruct  us  to  submit  our  minds  to  pre- 
judice till  we  discover  that  kindness  to  our  adulterous 
connections  is  sublime  virtue,  and  that  he  is  the  most 
rational  of  all  philosophers  who  endeavours  to  weaken 
the  faith  of  others  without  having  allowed  himself 
time  to  examine  the  evidences  of  the  religion  he  la- 
bours to  subvert.  Such  decisions  require  pity  rather 
than  argument,  and  surely  I  may  hope  for  an  eulogium 
on  my  candour  when  I  declare,  that  they  must  have 
been  uttered  while  the  reviewer  was  light-headed,  or 
labouring  under  the  insensibility  of  party  fever,  which, 
whether  it  rage  against  church  or  state,  public  charac- 
ters, or  private  individuals,  is  a  calamity  truly  tremen- 
dous and  stupifying. 

I  have  now  only  to  state  in  what  part  of  their  work 
authors  may  most  advantageously  indulge  in  repose. 
The  commencement  is  not  adviseable,  because  there 
they  ought  to  appear  smart  upon  the  principle  of  the 
old  adage  concerning  the  efficacy  of  new  brooms  j  and 
I  strongly  adjure  them,  if  they  would  escape  the  im- 
mediate ravage  of  the  trunk-maker,  to  be  wide  awake 
when  they  draw  up  their  title  page,  especially  if  they 
belong  to  the  class  of  novel  writers.  Who,  for  in- 
stance, would  select  for  the  companion  of  their  after- 
noon siesta,  "  a  Winter  in  Wisbeach  Fen,"  "  Adven- 
tures in  Dunstable,"  or  "  Characters  from  White- 
chapel  ?"  Let  them  also  continue  to  rub  their  eyes 
till  they  have  named  all  their  principal  characters,  and 
fixed  their  residences  ;  for  as  no  one  can  care  about 
Miss  Molly  Muggleton  of  the  Minories,  or  Peter  Per- 
kins of  Pimlico,  so  there  is  some  inconvenience  in  per- 
petually recurring  to  the  Harlowes,  Byrons,  Delvilles, 
and  other  classical  families,  as  it  may  produce  compa- 
risons, which  are  truly  odious.  After  the  title  and  the 
names  are  happily  chosen,  and  expectation  excited  by 


148  THE  REFUSAL. 

a  promise  of  some  bustle  and  some  scandal,  the  author 
may  compose  herself,  and  trust  to  the  works  of  her 
contemporaries  for  incidents  and  characters,  which, 
with  a  little  neat  patch-work  and  a  few  slight  sketches 
of  embroidery,  will  never  be  found  out.  This  recipe 
for  making  a  novel  will  always  answer,  and  an  old  dish 
tossed  up  with  new  sauce  will  furnish  collops  and  ra- 
gouts for  successive  entertainments. 

'Tis  true,  there  are  times  when  both  author  and 
reader  must  be  somewhat  on  the  alert.  I  do  not  mean 
at  the  catastrophe  ;  we  know  by  the  first  four  pages 
whether  the  heroine  is  to  die  or  to  be  married,  and  no 
other  conclusion  is  admissible,  because  one  of  these 
events  always  happens  to  beautiful  young  women.  But 
when  we  gratify  malevolence  and  excite  curiosity  by 
some  strong  touches  of  personality,  it  is  proper  to  ex- 
ercise consideration  sufficient  to  preserve  a  striking 
likeness,  and  to  avoid  running  into  the  net  of  justice. 

For  though  a  prosecution  for  slander  gives  eclat,  it 
is  now  so  trodden  a  path  to  renown,  that  libelling  is 
thought  to  be  an  unprofitable  and  consequently  declin- 
ing trade.  I  would  therefore  advise  my  kindred  of  the 
quill,  when  they  would  traffic  with  the  cant  phrase  of 
some  celebrated  wit,  describe  the  shrug  of  a  well 
known  fine  gentleman,  or  remodel  the  irregularities  of 
a  popular  duchess,  to  be  a  little  careful  not  to  strew 
thehr  vices  and  follies  too  thickly.  And  if,  for  the  sake 
of  effect,  they  find  that  they  must  make  the  wit  a  swin- 
dler, the  fine  gentleman  a  coward,  and  the  great  lady  a 
courtezan,  let  them  take  care  to  introduce  some  dissi- 
militude, which  may  enable  them  to  creep  out  of  those 
trammels  with  which  judges  and  juries  are  apt  to  ham- 
per the  exuberances  of  fancy. 

I  own  it  is  difficult  to  adopt  our  periods  of  vigilance 
and  indulgence  so  as  to  render  them  congenial  to  the 
feelings  of  our  different  readers.  A  young  hoyden 
sympathetically  goes  to  sleep  at  the  commencement  of 
a  parental  lecture,  or  admonitory  letter  from  a  maiden 
aunt,  and  a  lady  of  fashion  finds  the  yawning  propen- 


THE  REFUSAL.  149 

sity  increase  with  each  preparation  for  removing  the  he- 
roine into  the  country.  Indeed,  unless  there  be  an  ab- 
solute necessity  for  a  bower-scene  between  two  lovers, 
an  elopement  at  the  garden  gate,  or  an  insuperable 
want  of  moonlight  and  nightingales  for  a  ready-made 
sonnet,  I  would  not  recommend  going  into  the  country 
at  all.  Very  little  can  be  made  of  a  picquet  engage- 
ment with  the  curate,  and  when  we  have  puzzled  our 
brains  to  arrange  and  describe  the  whole  posse  comita- 
tus  of  a  rustic  neighbourhood  they  are  people  whom 
nobody  knows,  and  unless  we  do  the  thing  by  sheet 
work  they  will  not  earn  us  a  shilling.  Maiden  aunts 
and  rigid  grandmothers  employed  in  spreading  plais- 
ters  and  scolding  forward  misses,  were  tolerable  when 
Juliet  looked  through  a  lattice,  and  Romeo  "  with 
love-light  wings  o'erleap'd  the  garden  wall."  But  as 
my  aunt  and  my  grandmother  are  now  fixed  at  their 
card-table  in  the  assembly-room  of  Bath  or  Margate, 
pray  let  them  chaperon  Juliet  to  the  ball,  and  give  her 
an  opportunity  of  looking  at  Romeo  while  he  lounges 
gracefully  against  the  wainscot,  too  indolent  even  to 
use  his  opera-glass,  overwhelmed,  not  with  admiration 
but  fatigue,  and  vowing  not  eternal  fidelity,  but  that; 
dancing  is  a  bore  and  the  girls  are  troublesome. 

But  of  all  literary  dozing  the  moral  nap  is  most  de- 
lightful, because  it  may  be  enjoyed  with  the  most  com- 
plete security  from  interruption,  and  with  the  certainty 
of  diffusing  the  same  divine  oblivion  of  "  low-thought- 
ed  care"  over  the  minds  of  our  readers.  This  ad- 
mirable soporific  is  thus  easily  composed.  To  one 
grain  of  Johnson  add  a  pound  of  Sterne,  melt  them 
in  a  crucible  till  they  perfectly  amalgamate  ;  this  is  the 
only  difficult  part  of  the  process,  for  the  particles  are 
extremely  heterogeneous.  You  must  pour  in  a  little 
tincture  of  religion,  which  you  may  procure  either 
from  the  "  Economy  of  Human  Life,"  the  "  Essay 
on  Man,"  or  any  German  treatise  on  divinity.  Sweeten 
it  with  a  great  quantity  of  Voltaire's  liberality,  beat  it 
to  a  froth,  then  swallow  it  while  in  a  state  of  efferves- 


150  THE  REFUSAL. 

cence,  and  begin  to  write  immediately.  I  only  know 
one  narcotic  more  infallible.  Gentle  reader,  wouldst 
thou  be  immortalized  like  the  sleeping  beauty,  and 
completely  "  shrouded  in  a  suit  of  moral  spleen  ?"  read 
the  whole  four  and  twenty  volumes  composed  by  the 
elaborate  Mrs.  Prudentia  Homespun,  and  then  it  may 
be  said  of  thee,  requiescat  in  pace. 


«* 


/ 

4 


Jm>: 


[   151   J 


CHAPTER  IX. 


"  Indeed  my  nature's  easy, 
I'll  ever  live  your  most  obedient  wife, 
Nor  ever  any  privilege  pretend 
Beyond  your  will." 

Otway. 

FROM  the  preliminary  steps  which  are  already  re- 
corded, the  history  of  these  august  nuptials  passed  to 
their  next  stage  of  celebrity,  and  furnished  conversa- 
tion for  routs  and  morning  calls.  It  will  be  always  ne- 
cessary to  observe,  that  I  am  speaking  of  old  times, 
when  the  entertainment  of  conversation  really  existed, 
before  all  the  world  was  in  such  a  hurry  that  not  hav- 
ing a  moment  to  lose  every  body  talked  at  the  same 
time,  like  the  inhabitants  of  a  rookery  in  the  building 
season.  As  it  was  not  necessary  to  make  fifty  calls  in 
a  morning,  or  to  assemble  five  hundred  people  at  your 
evening  party,  there  was  time  to  hear  replies,  and  any 
very  interesting  event  might  be  talked  of  a  week  after 
it  happened.  Such  was  Lord  /ivondel's  matrimonial 
connection.  Some  termed  it  an  exceedingly  proper 
union,  others  a  very  nabob-like  speculation  on  the  part 
of  his  ci-devant  excellency,  a  sort  of  Othello  and  Des- 
demona  story,  only  they  hoped  it  would  end  better. 
Lastly,  at  best  it  was  Hebe  waiting  upon  Jupiter,  for 
all  agreed  Jupiter's  nod  would  be  decisive,  and  the 
pretty  young  Hebe  would  soon  sink  into  a  mere  cup- 
bearer. 

In  order  to  exemplify  these  opinions,  and  to  give  a 
little  relief  to  my  leading  characters,  let  us  suppose 
Lady  Mackintosh  (now  changed  into  Lady  Caddy,  by 
her  husband's  receiving  the  title  of  Sir  Joseph)  meeting 
the  Marchioness  of  Glenvorne  at  a  masquerade,  the 
former,  dragging  her  happy  baronet  from  the  supper 

vol.  i.  o 


152  THE  REFUSAL. 

table  to  introduce  him  to  the  coui't  lady,  who,  with 
much  polite  affectation  of  interest,  was  showering  her 
congratulations,  and  lamenting  the  length  of  time 
which  had  elapsed  since  she  met  Lady  Caddy  in  De- 
vonshire, where  Sir  Joseph  had  just  secured  consider- 
able parliamentary  interest  by  the  purchase  of  a  large 
estate.  After  a  thousand  thanks,  a  thousand  protesta- 
tions of  the  indescribable  transport  of  this  interview, 
we  will  seat  the  ladies  side  by  side,  and  place  some  pine 
apple  ice  before  the  gentleman  during  the  following 
dialogue. 

Lady  Caddy.  "  So,  this  extraordinary  match  has  at 
last  taken  place.  I  am  happy  to  see  Lord  Glenvorne 
is  not  inconsolable,  he  has  been  supporting  the  charac- 
ter of  Mr.  Pentagon  with  infinite:  humour." 

Marchioness  of  Glenvorne.  "  I  find,  my  dear  Lndy 
Caddy,  you  continue  to  be  intimately  acquainted  with 
whatever  passes  in  the  great  world*" 

Lady  Caddy  bowing.  "  I  happened  to  be  at  Mande- 
ville  Castle  when  Avondel  made  his  conquest.  I  used 
often  to  look  in  on  poor  old  Sir  Walter,  a  worthy  man, 
Lady  Glenvorne,  but  terribly  ignorant.  Good  little 
Emily  had  never  seen  a  creature,  so  fell  in  love  imme- 
diately, and  my  lord  managed  so  admirably  that  Sir 
Walter  actually  believed  he  h<;d  violent  objections  to  a 
young  heiress  with  lour  thousand  a  year,  and  twice  as 
much  in  reversionary  expectations.  He!  he!  he!  Such 
repugnance  would  have  been  singular." 

Marchioness  of  Glenvorne.  "  It  does  not  often  oc- 
cur, but  we  must  not  judge  Lord  Avondel  by  common 
rules." 

Lady  Caddy.  "  No,  certainly.  He  is  a  being  of  a 
higher  order,  splendid  talents,  first-rate  capav  ity,  uni- 
versal information.  This  makes  me  fear  they  never 
can  be  happy,  for  my  good  young  friend  is  an  every- 
day character.  Merely  a  well-meaning  girl  without 
mental  energy.  But  I  say  this  in  confidence.  I  >\  ould 
not  breathe  a  syllable  to  her  disadvantage,  only  your 
ladyship's  discretion  is  so  unquestionable." 


THE  REFUSAL.  153 

Marchioness  of  Glenvorne.  "  Your  fiat,  my  dear 
madam,  is  too  flattering.  I  sincerely  hope  Lord 
Avondel  will  reward  the  attachment  of  his  lovely 
bride." 

Lady  Caddy.  "  Ah,  that's  my  fear  after  all  we 
know :  and  I  find  it  is  fixed  that  Lady  Selina  Dela- 
more  is  to  reside  with  them.     'Tis  downright  shock- 

ins-" 

Marchioness  of  Glenvorne.  "  I  am  inclined  to 
doubt  the  authenticity  of  that  report.  I  believe  Lady 
Selina  is  too  much  wedded  to  her  habits  of  seclusion  to 
renew  her  intercourse  with  a  world  she  so  willingly  re- 
signed." 

Lady  Caddy.  "Your  ladyship  rejoices  my  heart; 
for  even  supposing  her  to  be  quite  correct  nozv,  and  that 
all  that  was  said  was  not  quite  true,  she  would  be  a 
most  improper  companion  for  the  countess." 

Lady  Glenvorne.  "  My  dear  Lady  Caddy,  to  what 
do  you  allude  .?" 

Lady  Caddy.  "  Oh,  I  never  attempt  to  explain  that 
mysterious  business.  My  dearest  Sir  Joseph,  I  really 
must  interdict  that  amazing  quantity  of  ice.  You 
know  the  opinion  of  your  phvsicians.  The  best  of 
creatures,  only  such  delicate  health.  The  last  sen- 
tence was  uttered  in  a  whisper  to  the  Marchioness,  who 
observed  that  Lady  Caddy  was  the  happiest  woman  in 
the  world  to  have  had  two  such  charming  husbands, 
adding  she  was  well  acquainted  with  Sir  Jeremy. 
"  Were  you,  indeed,"  returned  Lady  Caddv,  "  I 
thought  I  never  should  have  survived  him.  My  dear- 
est Sir  Joseph,  I  really  must  take  you  from  the  side- 
board, you  will  certainly  bring  an  a  spasmodic  atcack, 
and  then  only  think  what  I  shall  endure."  The  ladies 
now  curtsied  and  parted,  Lady  Caddy  satisfied  with 
the  eclat  of  being  seen  in  close  conversation  with  a 
Marchioness,  and  Lady  Glenvorne  happy  that  she  had 
done  her  duty  in  making  a  little  sacrifice  to  support  her 
son's  parliamentary  importance. 

The  honey-moon  had  now  expired,  and  the  Avon- 
dels    were   re-settled   in  Berkley-square,  whence   Sir 


!54  THE  REFUSAL. 

Walter,  gratified  by  the  fulfilment  of  all  his  earthly 
wishes,  had  removed  to  Mandeville  castle.  Emily  was 
by  this  time  quite  convinced  that  she  had  not  overrated 
the  virtues  of  htr  lord,  and  that  she  had  obtained  a 
complete  knowledge  of  his  temper,  though  uniform 
habits  of  whatever  is  great  and  good  could  not  rightly 
be  described  by  a  term  which  implies  caprice  and  infir- 
mity. She  thevefore  continued  wrapped  in  bright  and 
blissful  visions,  somewhat  clouded  however  by  her  re- 
gret, that  she  must  often  be  deprived  of  her  lord's  so- 
ciety, and  her  fear  that  she  should  be  unequal  to  fill 
the  public  station  his  ministerial  connections  required 
her  to  occupy.  The  society  and  advice  of  her  aunt 
became  therefore  the  only  remaining  desideratum  that 
was  wanting  to  crown  her  bliss,  and  she  was  particu- 
larly anxious  to  secure  it  during  her  noviciate  in  life, 
well  knowing  that  the  errors  and  awkwardness  of  a  de- 
but are  remembered  by  the  uncandid  when  graceful 
ease  has  supplanted  trembling  ignorance,  and  the  fine 
polish  of- self-respecting  politeness  has  rubbed  off  the 
irregularities  of  careless,  sincerity.  On  re-perusing 
Lady  Selina's  letters,  she  discovered  a  suggestion 
that  the  separation  was  not  meant  to  be  perpetual,  but 
was  only  to  last  till  she  was  Lady  A  vondel,  and  had 
made  herself  perfectly  acquainted  with  her  lord's  tem- 
per and  secure  of  his  affections.  The  interdict  was 
therefore  in  her  opinion  removed,  as  these  events  had 
taken  place  ;  she  accordingly  resolved  to  communicate 
her  wishes  to  her  husband,  and  engage  him  to  over- 
come her  aunt's  reluctance.  She  felt  convinced  that 
mistake  and  causeless  pique,  combining  with  exube- 
rant delicacy,  had  been  her  motive  for  declining  an 
invitation,  which  probably  she  would  readily  accept 
were  it  communicated  in  proper  form,  and  sanctioned 
by  the  request  of  him  from  whom  it  ought  to  ori- 
ginate. 

The  countess  determined  not  only  to  press  her  suit 
immediately,  but  to  heighten  the  certainty  of  success  by 
a  little  romantic  effect.  She  took  care  to  be  surprized 
by  her  lord  in  the  act  of  kissing  her  aunt's  picture,  and 


THE  REFUSAL.  155 

to  hurry  it  away  with  a  mock  embarrassment,  which 
indicated  a  desire  to  be  thought  detected  in  a  fault. 
Avondel  gaily  proclaimed  himself  of  a  jealous  disposi- 
tion, and  protested  that  a  regard  for  his  own  honour 
made  it  necessary  he  should  discover  all  her  intrigues. 
Emily  frankly  avowed  her  guilt,  told  him  he  had  a  ri- 
val whom  she  must  ever  love,  on  whom  she  had  doated 
from  her  infancy,  and  without  whom  she  could  not  be 
happy.  "  It  was  the  person  who  first  taught  me  to 
love  you,"  said  she,  playfully  holding  up  the  picture 
he  attempted  to  force  from  her.  Supposing  it  the  mi- 
niature of  her  uncle,  the  earl  threw  over  it  a  vacant 
glance,  which  soon  settled  in  a  glare  of  horror.  He 
shuddered,  staggered  against  a  chair,  his  hand  still 
holding  Lady  Avondel,  but  it  was  with  a  cold  convul- 
sive grasp.  The  pale  and  morbid  expression  of  his 
countenance  alarmed  the  countess.  "  You  are  ill,  my 
dearest  Lord,"  said  she.  "  No,  not  ill,"  was  his  re- 
ply. He  attempted  to  walk  across  the  room,  but  his 
emotion  was  too  violent  for  disguise.  After  a  sort  of 
gasping  pause,  he  asked  his  young  bride  how  long  she 
had  possessed  that  picture  ?  The  terrified  Emily  an- 
swered that  it  was  given  her  by  her  deai'est  aunt,  Se- 
lina  D<4amore,  the  friend  and  guide  of  her  infancy, 
and  next  himself  her  best  protector  and  friend. 

**  She  your  friend,"  exclaimed  the  earl,  "  she  the 
guide  and  protector  of  your  infancy!  the  worthless  wo- 
man who  perjured  herself  to  make  ma  wretched  !"  In- 
dignation diffused  a  burning  glow  over  his  countenance 
while  he  confessed  how  poignantly  he  felt  his  well-re- 
mtmbered  wrongs. 

Emily  sunk  involuntarily  upon  her  knees,  and  bathed 
her  lord's  hand  with  tears.  "  O  forgive  me,"  she  cried. 
"  If  you  forbid  I  will  not  desire  her  society  >  but  indeed 
I  must  ever  love  her." 

"  Do  you  then,"  said  the  earl,  fixing  an  eye  of  stern 
regard  upon  his  wife,  justify  her,  and  believe  I  provoked 
the  treatment  I  endured?" 

"  Never,  never,"  returned  the  countess,  alarmed  be- 
yond measure  at  the   first  harsh  expression  she  had 
o  2 


156  THE  REFUSAL. 

ever  heard  from  the  god  of  her  idolatry.  "  Till  now  I 
never  knew  who  had  wronged  you.  But  my  aunt  is 
so  good,  so  just,  so  consistent,  I  must  believe  some 
strange  mistake,  some  calumnious  misrepresentation." 

"  Go  on,  madam,  if  you  suppose  that  even  had  the 
whole  world  preferred  an  accusation  against  me  she 
would  have  been  justified  in  discharging  me  unheard, 
circumstanced  as  we  then  were." 

"  O  my  lord,  call  me  still  your  Emily.  Indeed, 
I  should  have  believed  you  against  the  whole 
world." 

"  Hear  me,  my  Emily,"  said  the  earl,  raising  her, 
"this  posture  becomes  neither  you  nor  me.  I  am  con- 
vinced that  I  have  not  a  second  time  embarked  my 
peace  where  perfidy  or  guilt  threatens  me  with  instant 
shipwreck.  I  never  practised  disguise  to  you,  I  told 
you  I  had  loved.  My  present  distress  so  overpowers 
my  fortitude  that  you  must  perceive  mine  was  no  com- 
mon passion.  You  say  Selina  educated  you  from  in- 
fancy, did  .she  ever  explain  to  you  the  motives  for  her 
conduct?" 

"  Never." 

"  Yet  you  say  she  taught  you  first  to  love  me  ?" 

Lady  Avondel  then  related  the  circumstances  attend- 
ing the  opening  of  the  casket,  and  added,  though  her 
aunt's  behaviour  on  that  occasion  excited  some  suspi- 
cions of  their  early  attachment,  yet  when  she  heard 
the  story  of  her  lord's  wrongs  she  deemed  it  impossi- 
ble they  could  originate  from  a  woman  whose  virtue 
and  wisdom  she  had  so  long  known  and  so  deeply 
revered. 

"  Listen  to  me,  Emily,"  said  the  earl :  "  Selina  De- 
lamore  was  exquisitely  beautiful,  (his  eye  glanced  on 
the  miniature  which  lay  upon  the  table,  and  then  re- 
volted as  from  the  sight  of  a  basilisk).  She  was  ex- 
quisitely beautiful,"  he  repeated  in  a  faultering  accent, 
while  the  strong  recollection  of  her  attractions  bewil- 
dered his  discourse.  "  She  had  at  least  the  appear- 
ance of  innocence,  truth,  superior  delicacy,  correct 
judgment"— 


THE  REFUSAL.  157 

"  O  she  possesses  the  reality,"  interrupted  the  coun- 
tess, "  she  is  a  pattern  of  piety,  goodness,  and  benevo- 
lence." 

"  Tell  me,"  said  the  earl,  sighing  and  pressing  the 
hand  of  his  wife,  "  You  certainly  resemble  her ;  tell 
me  where  does  she  live  ?" 

"  At  Lime  Grove,  my  lord,  in  — — shire  ;  she 

leads  a  life  of  most  perfect  retirement  and  sanctity." 

"  And  does  she  know  of  our  union  ?" 

"  O  yes,  I  correspond  with  her  frequently.  In  all 
her  letters  she  does  the  fullest  justice  to  your  high  de- 
serts, and  instructs  me  to  deserve  you." 

"  Shall  I,"  said  the  earl,  "  too  severely  task  your 
acquiescence  by  requesting  you  to  tell  me  what  you 
know  of  Selina's  history  r" 

Emily  readily  complied.  It  was  interwoven  with 
her  own.  She  just  recollected  the  death  of  her  mo- 
ther, who  fell  an  early  victim  to  a  life  of  dissipation. 
She  remembered  being  wayward,  sickly,  and  neglected, 
when  her  aunt  removed  her  from  an  unprincipled  go- 
verness, who  despised  the  unvalued  girl,  and  flattered 
the  promising  heir,  till  the  pitiable  orphans  increased 
their  misfortunes  by  mutual  enmity.  She  depicted 
the  infantine  establishment  at  Lime  Grove,  where  they 
grew  healthy,  happy,  and  affectionate.  Her  first  afflic- 
tion was  the  loss  of  her  bi-other's  society  when  her  uncle 
removed  him  to  Mandeville  Castle.  The  rest  of  her 
narrative,  except  what  the  reader  already  knows,  was  a 
description  of  Lady  Selina's  manners  and  habits.  As 
her  limited  fortune  restricted  her  expenses,  she  was  ra- 
ther uniformly  benevolent  than  liberally  beneficent,  and 
whoever  knows  the  lower  orders  knows  also  that  they 
who  are  most  lavish  are  generally  most  admired.  The 
neighbouring  society  was  not  much  to  her  taste.  Ill 
health  often  forbad  her  to  cultivate  it.  She  had  many 
resources  within  herself,  and  necessity  obliged  her  to 
retrench  all  superfluous  expenses  ;  she  was  therefore 
seldom  seen  beyond  her  own  precincts,  except  when 
called  abroad  by  the  dictates  of  piety,  charity,  or  ge- 
neral good  will.     For  though  she  was  indifferent  to  the 


158  THE  REFUSAL. 

applause  of  the  million,  she  was  most  conscientious  in 
the  discharge  of  every  duty  that  charity,  justice,  or 
compassion  imposed.  As  a  mistress,  the  serenity  of 
her  temper  made  her  adored  by  her  domestics,  and 
indeed  all  who  knew  her  well  were  unanimous  in  her 
praise  ;  but  these  were  too  few  to  remove  the  general 
impressions  which  Lady  Avondel  admitted  were  dis- 
advantageous to  her  aunt's  character.  A  seclusion, 
chosen  and  persevered  in  from  concealed  motives,  of 
whose  propriety  no  one  could  judge,  a  frugality  impo- 
sed by  circumstances  of  which  she  never  complained, 
and  which  she  never  discovered,  lest  she  should  seem 
to  throw  an  odium  on  those  who  left  her  in  difficulties 
so  unsuited  to  her  birth,  and  a  melancholy  arising  from 
many  untold  sorrows  ;  were  often  denominated  pride, 
ill-nature,  and  covetousness,  by  the  sons  and  daughters 
of  vulgar  jollity,  who  rank  perpetual  festivity  among 
the  duties  of  life,  and  plead  their  aversion  to  commun- 
ing with  their  own  hearts,  in  proof  that  they  are  very 
sociable,"  pleasant  characters. 

Lady  Avondel  knew  too  little  of  the  importance  of 
wealth,  and  the  inconveniences  which  her  aunt  suffered 
from  the  want  of  that  passport  to  favour,  to  explain  as 
fully  as  I  have  done  the  general  impression  which  the 
neighbourhood  entertained  of  Lady  Selina.  She 
chiefly  dilated  on  her  piety,  her  meekness  and  resigna- 
tion, which  were  all  of  a  sublime  and  beatific  cast.  It 
was  not  the  self-accusing  submission  of  a  contrite 
Magdalen,  that  appeared  in  this  holy  recluse,  but  the 
devotedness  and  calm  expectation  of  a  Madona.  The 
tears  which  occasionally  filled  her  eyes  seemed  not  to 
spring  from  self-reproach.  "  I  have  often,"  said  the 
countess,  "  while  I  looked  at  her,  thought  she  had 
much  to  complain  of,  but  that  she  was  too  good  to 
murmur,  and  indeed  merely  by  her  sufferings  from  ill 
health  she  has  endured  a  martyrdom.  Above  twenty 
years  ago  she  broke  a  blood  vessel ;  since  which  her 
lungs  have  been  so  very  weak  that  she  is  generally  con- 
fined to  her  chamber  in  severe  weather.  There  she 
reads,  prays,  and  meditates,  prepares  medicines  for  the 


THE  REFUSAL.  159 

sick,  works  for  the  poor,  or  fabricates  remembrances 
for  her  friends.  She  gives  little  trouble,  and  I  never 
heard  her  complain.  She  smiles  when  pale  with  dis- 
ease, or  exhausted  with  anguish,  and  while  I  have  wept 
over  her  she  only  talked  of  her  many  blessings,  and 
the  inexpressible  comfort  of  that  'peace  of  mind 
which  passes  all  understanding.' " 

Lord  Avondel's  eyes  were  filled  with  tears  at  Emily's 
artless  narrative.  It  did  not  paint  the  Selina  he  once 
knew,  the  pure  though  playful  and  affectionate  idol  of 
his  youthful  heart.  The  smiles  of  silent  fortitude  and 
christian  resignation  were  different  from  those  with 
which  hope,  love,  and  joy,  irradiated  her  enchanting 
visage  when  she  talked  of  a  life  of  felicity  with  her 
adored  Avondel ;  yet,  surely,  she  was  just  what  he 
might  expect  her  to  become,  when  wounded  by  incura- 
ble affliction.  In  one  point  the  resemblance  was  exact. 
She  discovered  the  same  anxiety  to  act  rightly  rather 
than  to  be  much  admired.  Praise  was  not  at  all  times 
necessary  to  her  content.  Selina,  satisfied  with  the  ap- 
probation of  her  own  heart,  awaited  the  decision  of 
that  tribunal  which  reviews  motives  as  well  as  actions. 
Avondel  felt  what  he  termed  a  noble  avarice  for  fame. 
Selina  indulged  no  proud  contempt  for  the  opinions  of 
her  fellow  creatures,  but  the  applause  of  the  world  was 
insufficient  for  one,  who,  in  the  silent  dictates  of  her 
own  heart,  anticipated  the  judgment  of  Omniscience. 

The  earl  now  asked  his  young  bride,  why  her  inti- 
mate connection  with  her  aunt  had  been  thus  late  and 
reluctantly  discovered  ?  Emily,  after  explaining  her 
uncle's  injunctions,  and  what  she  esteemed  his  unfound- 
ed aversion  to  Selina,  put  into  his  hands  the  correspon- 
dence which  is  contained  in  the  eighth  chapter.  Lord 
Avondel  retired  to  ruminate,  and  Emily  had  now  lei- 
sure to  reflect  on  her  own  impatience  in  not  quietly  sub- 
mitting to  the  wise  restrictions  which  her  aunt  had 
imposed.  But  curiosity  still  continued  to  be  a  power- 
ful stimulus.  The  mystery  was  only  in  part  develop- 
ed, and  while  she  felt  gratified  in  having  her  own  opi- 
nion of  Selina's  worth  confirmed  by  so  powerful  an 


160  THE  REFUSAL. 

attestation  as  the  fixed  attachment  of  such  a  man  as 
Lord  Avondel,  her  utter  inability  to  guess  at  the  ob- 
stacles which  could  separate  these  congenial  minds 
caused  a  very  painful  emotion.  For  herself,  she  felt 
that  her  honoured  aunt  was  the  onlv  person  to  whom 
she  could  allo^1  a  preference  in  her  husband's  affections, 
and  she  still  hoped  such  a  disclosure  might  be  made  as 
would  re-unite  those  in  friendship  who  had  been  dis- 
joined in  love. 

Meantime,  Lord  Avondel,  with  tremulous  impati- 
ence, ran  over  the  well-known  characters  of  the  belov- 
ed of  his  soul.  Kis  heart  swelled  with  anguish  at  every 
allusion  to  her  own  situation,  and  every  testimony 
which  she  gave  to  his  deserts.  He  sometimes  blamed 
the  proud  resentment  which  had  prevented  him  from 
making  any  inquiry  after  her,  and  had  even  caused  him 
to  cherish  a  hope  that  she  was  no  more.  He  knew 
that  Lady  Honoria  Mandeville  was  heiress  to  the 
house  of  Delamore,  and  consequently  sister  to  Selina, 
but  Sir  Walter's  dislike  of  his  brother's  wife  occasioned 
a  general  reserve  at  Mandeville  Castle  respecting  every 
branch  of  the  house  of  Montolieu  ;  and  Lady  Selina 
had  kept  up  but  a  slight  intercourse  with  her  own  fa- 
mily. From  these  reasons,  added  to  a  lapse  of  time, 
and  the  intervention  of  other  objects,  Lord  Avondel 
did  not  call  to  mind  the  connection  till  Emily's  resem- 
blance of  her  aunt  brought  it  to  his  recollection  at  the 
time  that  he  discovered  in  the  young  lady  the  symp- 
toms of  a  growing  attachment.  Whether  from  unex- 
tinguished love  or  cherished  resentment,  certainly  this 
near  relationship  to  his  first  choice  was  one  motive  for 
his  wishing  to  avoid  a  permanent  connection  with  a  fa- 
mily which  he  thought  honour  required  him  to  re- 
nounce for  ever. 

But  imperious  circumstances  had  prescribed  a  dif- 
ferent conduct.  His  wife  was  not  only  the  niece  of 
Selina,  but  formed  and  fashioned  under  her  auspices. 
"  She  had  been  the  guide  of  her  infancy,  her  protector, 
without  whose  society  she  never  could  be  happy,  the 
person  who  had  taught  her  to  love  him,  and  whom  she 


THE  REFUSAL.  161 

must  ever  tenderly  regard."     These  were  words  he 
never  could  forget.     How  great  and  alarming  was  the 
influence   which  they  implied,  especially  if  exercised 
by  an  artful  and  treacherous,  or  even  by  a  rash  mis- 
guided woman.     Had  she  not  renounced  him  confess- 
edly without   any  provocation  ?  to  what  extravagance 
might  she  not  impel  his  wife  ?    and  how  dangerous  a 
fomenter  of  family  quarrels  might  such  a  woman  prove  ? 
Inadvertencies   would  become  crimes,  and  differences 
sweil  into    disgusts.      W.is  there  in  the  whole  train  of 
possibilities  any  combination  of  circumstances   which 
could  justify  Selina's  conduct  to   him,  or  reconcile  it 
to  the  rules  of  honour  and   pood  sense  ?  and    till   this 
was  done,  must  not  her  protegee,  her  adopted  child, 
whose  mind  she  had  formed  and  avowedly  governed, 
be  viewed  with  more  of  dread  than  confidence  ?   True, 
she  had   all  the  appearance  of  artless  innocence   and 
chaste  attachment,  but  so  hod  Selina   the  evening  he 
left  her  to  prepare  Avon  park  for   the  reception  of  its 
future  mistress.    .  Painful  recollection  !     Innocence  and 
fidelity  assumed  in  her  at  that  well-remembered  inter- 
view a  higher  character  than  in  the  quiet  passive  Emi- 
ly.    The  latter  had    the    unoffending   simplicity,  and 
indiscriminate    attachment,    of    an    amiable   girl ;    the 
enlarged    understanding  and  exalted  sentiments  of  Se- 
lina conveyed  an  idea  of  seraphic  purity  and  affection. 
The  love  ot  Selina   was   like  that  of  a  superior  being, 
acting  as  a  watchful  guardian  to  some  beloved  charge, 
Emily  was  a  weak  timid   creature  clinging  to  him  for 
protection,   conscious  of  inferiority,  fearful  of  offend- 
ing him,  and  willing  to  sacrifice,  even  his  character  to 
gratify  his  inclinations  or  allay  her  own  terrors.     The 
reader  will  easily  discover,  which  of  these  ladies  Lord 
Avondei  thought  best  adapted  to  him  for  a  wife,  but  I 
would   not  have    him  from  thence   conclude   that  he 
formed  a  right  judgment.     The  result  of  these  reflec- 
tions was,  that  Emily  should  urge  her  aunt  to  explain 
her  reasons   for  writing  the  letter  of  May  175",  and 
,   on  her  answer  the  correspondence  between  them  was 


162  THE  REFUSAL. 

positively  to  depend.  The  young  countess  eagerly  un- 
dertook the  task,  convinced  that  the  mystery  would 
be  so  explained  as  fully  to  justify  Selina's  conduct,  and 
produce  that  perfect  reconciliation,  which  she  now 
found  wanting  to  complete  the  bliss  of  her  conjugal 
paradise. 


[   163  ] 


CHAPTER  X. 


O  let  thy  soul 
Remember,  what  the  will  of  heaven  ordains 
Is  ever  good  for  all,  and  if  for  all, 
Then  good  for  thee.     Not  only  by  the  warmth 
And  s  jothing  sunshine  of  delightful  tilings, 
Do  minds  grow  up  and  flourish. 

AKEKSIDE. 

A  FEW  posts  brought  Lady  Avondel  the  following 
letter. 

"  My  dearest  Lady  Avondel, 

"  Your  happiness  being  the  first  wish  of  my  heart, 
I  willingly  renounce  every  consideration  immediately 
connected  with  myself,  and  though  I  might  briefly 
answer  your  letter  by  acknowledging  rnat  I  tr>ve  given 
your  lord  most  just  cause  to  hate  and  despise  me,  I 
khink  myself  called  upon  to  satisfy  (as  far  as  my  con- 
science will  permit)  the  anxiety  which  your  mind  must 
feel,  and  which  I  can  well  appreciate. 

"  My  history  is  melancholy,  but  it  is  connerted  with 
what  yon  wish  to  know.  About  the  tine  of  my  birth, 
so'  e  unh..ppv  reasons  occasioned  mv  mother  to  S'  pa- 
rat"  from  Lord  Montolieu.  Mv  sister,  Ladv  Hono- 
ria  Mandeviile,  continued  with  her  father,  and  I  re- 
mained with  my  mother,  who  received  a  separate 
maintenance,  till  the  death  of  her  husband  put  her  in 
possession  of  her  jointure.  She  then  return ■  d  to  the 
world  from  which  she  had  long  been  exiled.  She 
procured  for  me  the  best  masters,  and  introduced  me 
to  the  first  circles,  though  she  knew  mv  fortune  was 
onlv  a  small  annuity,  ad  the  Deia.nore  estates  having 
been  consigned  to  your  mother,  who  was  the  declared 
favourite  of  \our  grandfather.  My  poor  mother  at- 
tempted to  renew  her  long-interrupted  intercourse  with 

VOL.  i.  p 


164  THE  REFUSAL. 

this  child,  but  it  was  cold  and  formal,  unlike  the  warm 
affections  which  result  from  family  harmony.  She 
soon  after  married  Sir  James  Mandeville,  without 
asking  the  approbation  of  her  surviving  parent  and 
even  the  forms  of  civility  were  then  suspended. 

"  Lady  Montolieu,  became  disgusted  with  the 
world,  and  resolved  to  bury  herself  in  retirement. — 
The  motive  which  she  assigned  for  this  change  of  plan 
was  to  save  a  fortune  for  me,  but  I  believe  some  mor- 
tifications aud  neglects  from  her  former  friends  occa- 
sioned that  resolution.  Her  health  was  then  good,  and 
seemed  to  promise  success  to  her  maternal  exertions 
in  my  favour  ;  and  certainly  it  was  a  painful  sacrifice 
in  one  who  was  still  young,  beautiful,  and  fitted  to  fill 
a  conspicuous  place  in  the  first  circles.  A  country  so- 
litude presented  no  charms  to  her  imagination,  and 
her  temper,  which  had  never  been  corrected  in  her 
vouth,  now  became  extremely  burthensome  to  herself 
and  others.  I  hope  I  was  not  materially  wanting  in 
my  duty,  but  my  hours  passed  very  painfully.  I 
murmured  sometimes  in  secret,  for  I  was  very  young, 
Emily,  and  passionately  attached  to  the  world.  I  had 
acquired  a  strong  relish,  for  its  pleasures  without  dis- 
covering that  they  were  interspersed  with  cares  and 
dangers.  I  fancied  innocence  had  a  right  to  happi- 
ness !  Ah  !  my  child,  how  many  useful  lessons  are 
taught  by  adversity. 

"  I  was  thus  situated,  when  I  received  an  invitation 
from  a  friend  of  my  mother's  to  pass  the  winter  with 
her  in  London.  The  countess,  though  she  sometimes 
reproached  me  with  causing  all  her  wretchedness,  ten- 
derly loved  me,  and  perceiving  my  health  and  spirits 
injured  by  a  close  attendance  on  her,  she  consented  to 
relinquish  my  society  for  a  few  months.  I  returned  to 
London  with  every  sanguine  hope  a  young  and  ardent 
mind  could  form,  delighted  at  the  prospect  of  renew- 
ing an  intercourse  with  many  beloved  companions, 
above  all  with  the  Marchioness  of  Gienvorne,  who 
had  recently  formed  a  most  happy  and  honourable  alli- 
ance.    An  important  event  signalized  this  excursion. 


THE  REFUSAL.  165 

I  engaged  the  affections  of  the  Earl  of  Avondel,  then 
in  the  bloom  of  youth,  universally  admired  and  uni- 
versally beloved.  I  will  not  expatiate  on  my  feelings 
when  assured  that  I  was  the  object  of  his  choice.  Ask 
your  own  heart,  my  Emily ;  mine  was  as  attached  to 
his  person,  and  as  sensible  of  his  virtues. 

"  But  I  must  tell  you,  for  probably  his  delicacy  will 
not,  the  circumstances  under  which  he  avowed  his 
passion.  It  was  only  by  his  frequent  visits  to  Mrs. 
Spencer's,  and  his  refined  attentions  to  me,  that  I  was 
induced  to  hope  I  had  attracted  his  regard,  since  a  man 
of  his  honour  and  good  sense  would  abhor  the  mean 
triumph  of  misleading  inexperience.  It  was  in  his 
presence  Mrs.  Spencer  received  a  letter  from  Ur.  R. 
informing  her,  that  he  had  been  sent  for  to  attend  the 
Countess  of  Montolieu,  whom  on  his  arrival  he  found 
dead,  after  an  illness  of  a  few  hours.  Mrs.  Spencer 
spoke  with  great  concern  of  mv  friendless,  unprovided 
situation  ;  and  it  was  then  Avondel  generously  declar- 
ed his  wish  to  engraft  me  on  his  noble  stock.  The 
two-fold  intelligence  was  communicated  to  me  at  the 
same  time.  Emily,  I  will  open  to  you  my  whole 
heart.  It  was  said  I  bore  my  mother's  death  with  for- 
titude, but  I  never  loved  her.  I  trust  I  performed 
my  duty,  but  her  wayward  temper  and  extreme  seve- 
rity repressed  affection.  I  knew  not  that  her  soul  was 
pierced  with  incurable  sorrows,  and  I  too  much  con- 
sidered, that  through  her  misconduct  I  had  been  de- 
prived of  the  protection  of  my  father,  and  the  love  of 
my  kindred.  Her  death  therefore  rather  inspired  a 
selfish  apprehension  for  my  own  future  lot,  than  the 
tender  emotions  of  filial  regret.  To  know  at  that  mo- 
ment that  I  was  not  to  be  thrown  upon  the  world,  a 
friendless  orphan  with  a  scanty  provision,  inadequate 
to  the  claims  of  my  birth,  and  insufficient  to  extort 
that  respect  to  my  youthful  attractions  which  would 
awe  the  licentious  from  attempting  to  ensnare  my  in- 
experience :  to  be  invited  to  partake  the  fortunes  of  a 
man  whose  personal  merits  conferred  honour  on  his 
high  dignity  and  ancient  house  ;  to  be  offered  the  pro- 


166  THE  REFUSAL. 

tection  of  one  of  the  first  characters  in  the  kingdom, 
and  thus  be -held  forth  as  an  object  of  envy  instead  oi 
commiseration  ; — Wonder  not,  my  child,  that  the  re- 
membrance oi  my  early  sorrows  faded  like  the  recol- 
lection of  a  distressing  dream,  when  our  eyes  open  to 
the  beauty  of  a  summer  morning  ;  or  that  I  surrender- 
ed my  whoie  soul  10  the  delight  of  inspiring  and  che- 
rishing virtuous  and  happy  love. 

"  It  was  at  this  time  that  I  first  discovered  the  ver- 
satility of  the  world.  The  future  Countess  of  Avon- 
del  was  as  much  courted  and  admired,  as  the  indi- 
gent Selina  Delamorehad  been  dreaded  and  neglected. 
I  received  numerous  invitations,  every  matron  of  rank 
offered  to  be  my  chaperon.  I  was  the  glass  of  fashion 
and  the  ornament  of  societ\ .  The  most  agreeable  cir- 
cumstance connected  with  this  inundation  of  good  will 
was  my  restoration  to  the  countenance  of  my  family. 
I  received  an  invitation  to  Mandeville  Castle,  and  was  • 
civilly  treated  by  your  father  and  mother  ;  yet,  as  I 
did  r.ot  experience  that  full  cordiality  which  I  had 
hoped  for,  I  shortened  my  visit,  and  resolved  not  to 
introduce  Lord  Avondel  to  them  till  as  his  wife  I 
should  feel  myself  elevated  above  the  mortification  of 
perhaps  undesigned  negligencies. 

"The  day,  my  Emily,  as" you  have  heard,  was 
fixed;  the  nuptial  attire  purchased;  the  settlements 
drawn  according  to  the  liberal  plan  dictated  by  his  ge- 
nerous heart.  He  left  me  in  order  to  prepare  Avon 
park  for  my  reception,  and  I  returned  to  my  mother's 
late  residence  to  make  the  small  arrangements  in  my 
province.  We  met  no  more  ! — 1  wrote  the  letter  which 
I  am  required  to  explain: — I  had  motives  for  it — im- 
perious motives,  which  I  cannot  divulge:  nor  would 
the  discovery  contribute  to  lord  Avondel's  peace ;  on 
the  contrary,  I  am  convinced  it  would  overwhelm  him 
with  horror. 

"  As  concealment  now  became  my  duty,  I  fled 
where  no  one  knew  me  and  she  who  but  a  few  hours 
before  looked  forward  to  bridal  happiness,  title,  for- 
tune, every  desirable  good  which  is  ranked  in  the  cata- 


THE  REFUSAL.  167 

logue  of  earthly  blessings,  became  a  dubious  wander- 
er, an  unknown  stranger,  who,  like  a  proscribed  cri- 
minal, sought  concealment  under  a  borrowed  name  ; 
and  at  the  moment  when  she  most  wanted  consolation 
and  support,  estranged  herself  from  all  she  loved.  In 
the  morning  of  my  life,  I  looked  forward  to  my  future 
existence  as  to  a  cheerless  void,  unvisited  by  hope, 
unillumined  by  the  endearing  sympathy  of  social  affec- 
tion ! 

"  Do  not,  my  beloved  Emily,  compliment  my  forti- 
tude. It  consisted  merely  in  enabling  me  to  live 
through  the  early  period  of  my  trial.  You  must  not 
suppose  that,  when  the  blow  was  first  struck,  I  sup- 
ported my  disappointment  with  the  equanimity  you 
have  been  accustomed  to  see  me  exert  in  those  happier 
hours,  when  the  playful  prattle  of  yourself  and  your 
brother  made  me  feel  that  there  was  something  worth 
living  for.  I  brought  into  the  agonizing  confines  of 
affliction  a  heart  strongly  attached  to  sublunary  good, 
and  proportionably  cold  to  those  better  prospects  our 
high  calling  enjoins  us  to  prefer.  I  am  now  one  of 
those  who,  with  resigned  humility  and  grateful  content, 
can  enumerate  the  advantages,  nay  the  blessings,  of 
calamity.  You  have  heard  of  the  accident  which  has 
occasioned  me  so  much  bodily  suffering  ;  it  was  caused 
by  the  stormy  emotions  of  rebellious  grief.  During 
the  state  of  extreme  weakness  to  which  it  reduced  me, 
terrestrial  happiness  assumed  a  very  different  aspect  to 
that  it  exhibited  when  youth,  health,  hope,  and  love 
taught  me  to  forget  I  was  merely  a  pilgrim  and  sojour- 
ner on  earth.  Stretched  on  the  bed  of  infirmity,  and, 
as  I  believed,  of  death,  the  forlorn  Selina  Delamore 
escaped  those  pangs  which  the  beloved  wife  of  Avon- 
del  must  have  felt.  If  I  wanted  the  support  and  com- 
fort of  sympathizing  tenderness,  I  did  not  endure  the 
miserv  of  witnessing  the  anguish  of  a  heart  whose 
peace  was  dearer  to  ine  than  my  own.  I  mused  upon 
his  glories,  I  prayed  Heaven  to  shield  him  in  the  day 
of  danger,  but  the  ties  which  bound  him  to  a  wretch 
p  2 


168  THE  REFUSAL, 

like  me,  were  dissolved,  and  thus  death  had  lost  half 
its  terrors. 

"  Yet,  I  was  not  bereft  of  all  external  consola- 
tions. I  had  the  assistance  of  a  faithful  servant, 
the  confidential  attendant  on  my  mother.  Notwith- 
standing the  mysterious  air  of  my  concealment, 
my  appearance  interested  strangers,  who,  in  my 
extreme  sufferings,  forgot  the  suspicions  they  had  en- 
tertained of  .my  character,  and  showed  to  an  unknown 
stranger  all  the  offices  of  christian  charity.  Among 
the  rest,  I  most  gratefully  acknowledge  the  services  of 
a  skilful  physician,  and  a  judicious  pious  divine.  The 
former  so  assisted  my  naturally  vigorous  constitution 
as  to  prevent  me  from  falling  a  premature  victim  to 
grief  and  despair,  and  preserved  (under  providence) 
what  I  thought  a  valueless  life,  to  be  useful  to  you. 
The  latter  told  me  that,  as  the  immoderate  indulgence 
of  grief  argued  an  unsanctified  rebellious  spirit,  so  de- 
spair  could  never  find  the  wa)'  into  a  heart  which  had 
rot  broken  the  injunction  against  placing  our  affections 
on  things  beneath.  As  my  body  gained  strength  from 
the  restorative  quality  of  those  medicines  which  '  dis- 
played the  power  of  art  without  the  shew,'  my  mind 
derived  energy  front  submission,  and  fortitude  from 
meekness.  I  no  longer  proudly  asked,  why  I  was 
called  to  ibis  hard  trial  ?  what  I  had  done  to  forfeit  such 
brilliant  hopes  :  nor  why  the  bolt  of  Heaven  passed  by 
the  more  guilty  to  crush  me  to  the  earth  ?  In  the  events 
which  had  dissevered  me  from  the  object  I  idolized,  and 
dissolved  the  fascinating  visions  of  sublunary  bliss,  I 
recognized  the  mercy  that  substituted  an  omniscient 
and  unchangeable  Iking  to  my  affections,  and  an  eter- 
nal and  infinite  happiness  to  my  hopes.  I  rose  from 
the  couch  of  infirmity  languid  and  delicate  in  health, 
but  strong  in  mird,  duly  appreciating  the  brevity  of 
human  life,  anxious  to  secure  the  immortality  for  which 
it  was  meant  to  prepare  me,  ready  to  fulfil  the  unknown 
duties  which  inscrutable  wisdom  had  preserved  me  to 
discharge,  and  so  sensible  that  I  was  in  the  hands  of 
one  who  would  dispose  of  me  in  the  way  which  would 


THE  REFUSAL.  169 

ultimately  tend  to  my  advantage,  that  I  was  able,  with 
the  most  entire  acquiescence,  to  say,  '  The  will  of  Hea- 
ven be  done  !' 

"  I  continued  in  obscurity  some  years,  till  the  death 
of  my  sister  again  summoned  me  to  the  performance 
of  active  duties.  She  knew  of  my  retreat,  and  its 
motives.  It  was  necessary  she  should,  as  I  received 
from  her  the  annuity  which  was  my  support.  She  led  a 
gay,  and,  as  it  was  termed,  a  happy  life,  till  she  sunk 
under  the  fatigue  of  continual  pleasure.  I  attended 
her  in  her  last  illness,  and  received  her  orphan  children 
as  a  solemn  trust.  Sir  James,  who  died  a  few  months 
before  her,  had  appointed  his  brother  to  be  their  guar- 
dian, but  as  General  Mandeville  was  on  the  continent, 
I  was  for  some  time  allowed  the  delightful  employment 
of  nursing  and  educating  you  both.  On  his  return,  he 
took  George  from  me ;  he  was  then  of  an  age  to  re- 
quire being  removed  from  female  superintendance. 
The  same  prudent  concern  for  your  welfare  induced 
him  to  take  you  also,  when  your  time  of  life  gave  you 
a  claim  to  an  establishment  suited  to  your  birth  and 
fortune. 

"  And  now,  my  love,  you  must  perceive  I  had  suffi- 
cient reason  to  decline  residing  with  you  :  nor  will  I 
even  expect  the  indulgence  of  your  company  at 
Lime  Grove.  A  load  of  obloquy  has  been  thrown 
on  my  character,  which,  as  my  story  will  not  be 
told,  I  cannot  remove.  The  wife  of  the  Earl  of 
Avondel  must,  like  Caesar's,  be  as  untainted  in  her 
fame  as  in  her  person.  My  misfortunes  are  now 
almost  forgotten,  my  person  is  known  to  few.  Why 
should  the  censorious,  the  curious,  and  the  tattling, 
be  invited  to  rake  up  the  ashes  of  my  mysterious 
history,  and  to  cast  them  on  your  untainted  for- 
tunes? Why  should  it  be  proclaimed,  that  you  were 
educated  by  one  who  had  forfeited  every  pretence 
to  principle  and  honour?  Calumny  has  been  busy 
with  my  name,  and  I  have  never  stepped  forward 
to  refute  its  slanders.  You  want  no  companion  but 
your    husband,   no   director,  nor  adviser,  but    him. 


1JX)  THE  REFUSAL. 

If,  however,  circumstances  should  arise  which  might 
make  a  reference  to  an  unprejudiced  umpire  desi- 
rable, any  casts  of  decorum  best  submitted  to  fe- 
male indulgence  and  delicacy,  the  pen  may  be  a 
faithful  expositor  of  our  reciprocal  sentiments.  I 
allude  to  the  scarcely  probable  event  of  any  differ- 
ence of  opinion  arising  between  you  and  your  lord, 
or  of  your  finding  yourself  exposed  to  those  temp- 
tations from  which  your  rank  and  the  reputation  of  your 
husband,  if  attended  by  discretion  and  exemplariness  of 
manners  on  your  part,  will  most  probably  secure  you. 
Yet,  alas  !  I  too  well  know,  that  neither  high  birth,  re- 
putation, nor  purity  of  intention,  can  prevent  the  daring 
seducer  from  attempting  to  contaminate  matronly  chas- 
tity and  virgin  innocence.  Beware,  then,  my  Emi- 
ly, lest  you  invite  his  approaches.  You  shudder  at 
the  suggestion;  yet  I  must  proceed.  Hundreds, 
innocent  as  you,  have  fallen.  Bury  in  your  own 
bosom,  I  charge  you,  those  petty  differences,  those 
shades  of  dissatisfaction,  which  (such  is  human  in- 
firmity) will  interrupt  the  "felicity  of  the  happiest  pair. 
Never  let  the  world  perceive  that  you  discover  im- 
perfections in  your  Avondel.  Never  let  a  word  or  a 
look  intimate  that  you  conceive  yourself  less  nobly 
treated  than  you  deserve.  The  licentious  and  the 
designing  will  build  the  ruin  of  your  fame  or  your 
peace  on  such  an  intimation.  The  honour  of  a  wife  is 
seldom  attempted  till  she  shews  her  seducer  that 
she  may  be  wrought  upon  to  hate  or  despise  her  hus- 
band. 

"  I  have  laid  open  my  whole  heart,  Emily,  not 
knowing  whether  this  letter  is  to  be  submitted  to  your 
lord's  perusal.  If  the  affection  he  bore  ine  have  so 
far  subdued  the  keen  sense  of  injury,  which  his  lofty 
mind  must  feel,  as  to  induce  him  to  forgive  me,  his 
generous  heart  will  rejoice  to  hear,  that  his  once  beloved 
Selina  is  happy ;  that  she  is  so  happy,  so  contented 
with  her  lot,  and  so  convinced  that  it  was  a  meet  cor- 
rection of  a  disposition  which  had  cultivated  refine- 
ment of  sentiment  and  sensibility  of  feeling  to  a  de- 


THE  REFUSAL.  171 

gree  that  unfitted  her  for  the  conflicts  of  life,  that  she 
would  not  change  her  present  portion  even  for  yours, 
my  darling  child,  whom  she  esteems  the  most  enviable 
of  all  human  beings  next  herself.  You  possess  and 
enjoy  all  the  good  this  world,  can  bestow,  I. am  still 
happier  in  having  ceased  to  regret  its  loss. 

"Selina  Delamore." 


[  m  ] 


CHAPTER  XL 


Thy  oaths  I  quit,  thy  memory  resign, 

Forget,  renounce  me,  hate  whate'er  was  mine. 

Fair  eyes,  and  tempting  looks  (which  yet  I  view) 

Long-lov'd,  adored  ideas  all  adieu  ! 

Oh  grace  serene  !  Oh,  virtue,  heavenly  fair  ! 

Divine  oblivion  of  low  thoughted  care  ! 

Fresh  blooming  hope,  gay  daughter  of  the  sky  ! 

And  faith,  our  early  immortality  ! 

Enter,  each  mild,  each  amicable  guest ; 

Receive,  and  wrap  me  in  eternal  rest ! 

Pope. 

THE  young  countess  did  not  hesitate  how  to  dis- 
pose of  this  letter.  She  presented  it  to  her  lord,  and 
asked  him. if  it  did  not  appear  like  the  composition  of 
a  beatified  spirit  ?  Such  indeed  it  seemed  to  that  no- 
bleman. Was  he  once  so  near  possessing  this  trea- 
sure, did  she  still  exist,  might  he  never  call  her  his, 
nor  even  know  why  the  ties  which  bound  her  to  him 
were  dissolved  ? 

On  repeated  perusals,  several  of  Selina's  expressions 
struck  him  as  tending  to  darken  rathrr  than  elucidate 
the  mystery.  She  "  knew  too  well  the  arts  and  the 
effrontery  of  the  seducer,  she  was  conscious  of  having 
incurred  a  load  of  obloquy,  which  she  could  not  re- 
move. She  thought  her  niece's  fame  might  suffer 
from  being  intimate  with  her,  she  chose  to  remain  in 
obscurity  ;  she  acquitted  him  of  having  provoked  her 
rejection,  and  she  refuted  the  excuse  he  had  sometimes 
formed  of  her  having  heard  some  unfounded  and  af- 
terwards disproved  slander  on  his  reputation,  by  own- 
ing that  her  first  pangs  at  this  separation  were  aggra- 
vated by  a  full  conviction  of  his  worth."  Her  letter 
told  nothing  but  the  severity  of  her  sufferings,  yet  her 
conscience  would  not  permit  her  to  be  more  explicit  ? 


THE  REFUSAL.  173 

What  conclusion  could  he  draw  ?  Had  she  after  their 
last  interview  fallen  a  victim  to  brutal  violence  or  dia- 
bolical fraud  ?  He  determined  to  write  to  her  himself, 
and  urge  her  to  entrust  this  fatal  secret  to  his  unques- 
tioned honour. 

Yes,  he  resolved  to  write  to  his  Selina,  but  the  hand 
even  of  Avondel  trembled  while  performing  the  task. 
His  last  letter  to  her  was  written  from  Avon  Park,  and 
breathed  the  soul  of  tenderness  and  fond  expectation. 
He  was  now  the  husband  of  another,  while  with  vestal 
fidelity  she  still  fed  the  never  dying  lamp  of  her  early 
love.  Ashamed  of  this  trepidation,  which  unmanned 
the  hero  and  degraded  the  statesman,  he  blamed  his 
weakness,  and  resolved  after  this  one  act  of  submis- 
sion never  more  to  be  the  puppet  of  a  woman,  but  to 
brace  his  nerves  by  referring  to  her  acknowledgment 
that  she  had  given  him  cause  to  hate  and  despise  her. 
With  this  determination  he  commenced  a  correspon- 
dence which  it  is  my  duty  to  give  entire,  especially 
since  it  passed  without  the  knowledge  of  Lady  Avon- 
del. 

"  To  Lady  Selina  Delamore. 

"  Madam, 
"  Emily  availed  herself  of  your  permission  to  shew 
me  your  letter,  and  it  has  excited  the  liveliest  compas- 
sion for  your  sufferings  and  admiration  of  your  pre- 
sent composed  sad  devout  state  of  mind.  But  as  vou 
have  not  explained  the  motives  that  induced  you  to  re- 
nounce your  vows  to  me,  I  still  know  not  whether  I 
ought  to  condemn  or  applaud  the  principles  on  which 
they  were  grounded,  and  which  caused  you  to  sacrifice 
your  own  happiness  and  cloud  my  brightest  hopes.  I 
cannot  assume  that  language  of  distant  respect  which 
a  keen  remembrance  of  my  wrongs  might  seem  to  de- 
mand. It  is  you  I  address,  the  adored  associate  of 
my  happiest  days,  and  I  lose  in  that  thought  all  vindic- 
tive recollection  of  the  pangs  you  have  occasioned  me. 
By  ail  the  confidence  you  once  placed  in  my  veracity, 


/ 


174  THE  REFUSAL. 

in  my  inviolable  secrecy,  and  untainted  honour,  trust 
me,  I  conjure  you,  with  your  whole  story.  You  inti- 
mate, that  it  would  overwhelm  me  with  horror  ;  no- 
thing can  be  more  exquisitely  painful  than  the  sus- 
pense which  I  have  suffered  for  three  and  twenty  years, 
during  which  your  image  has  daily  passed  before  me 
in  the  successive  forms  of  an  angel  of  light  and  a  de- 
mon of  darkness.  Art  thou  injured  and  innocent,  or 
perfidious  and  detestable,  sporting  with  the  keen  sen- 
sibility of  a  heart  which  only  thou  couldst  torture  ? 
Tell  me  if  the  years  of  anguish  thou  hast  suffered 
were  designed  as  a  commutation  for  guilt.  Instruct 
me  how  to  assuage  thy  sorrows,  or  where  to  direct  the 
vindictive  enmity  which  shall  avenge  thy  wrongs. — 
Above  all,  tell  me,  (though  I  tremble  to  ask)  might 
the  bar,  which  the  fatal  letter  that  now  lies  before  me 
terms  insuperable,  have  been  removed,  had  not  I  re- 
cently created  an  insurmountable  impediment  ?  My 
once  ingenuous  Selina,  resume  thy  former  self,  and  as 
this  letter  again  shews  thte  all  the  undisguised  weak- 
ness, so  relieve  the  perplexities  which  corrode  the 
peace  of  the  husband  of  thy  gentle  Emily,  yet  still 
most  truly  thy  devoted 

"  Avondel." 

"  To  the  Earl  of  Avondel. 

"  My  lord, 

"  I  most  readily  comply  with  your  last  request.  The 
impediment  which  separated  us  still  exists,  nor  could 
it  ever  be  removed,  even  if  you  were  not  now  the 
plighted  protector  of  an  amiable  affectionate  creature, 
who  lives  but  for  your  sake,  and  who,  I  trust,  will 
prove  your  blessing  and  reward. 

"  For  myself,  I  am  neither  of  those  characters  which 
your  troubled  fancy  has  often  painted.  I  am  your  fel- 
low creature,  my  lord,  conscious  of  many  errors,  and 
patiently  submitting  to  the  evils  incident  to  a  distem- 
p.n  d  body,  broken  spirits,  and  contracted  fortunes, not 
in  commutation  of  my  offences,  but  because  it  is  my 


THE  REFUSAL.  175 

Father's  will  to  call  home  his  wandering  child  by  the 
ministry  of  affliction.  Yet,  as  far  as  relates  to  my  con- 
nection with  you,  I  have  been  more  sinned  against 
than  sinning.  But  vengeance  belongs  not  to  frail  mis- 
judging man.  No  human  tribunal  could  take  cogni- 
zance of  my  wrongs,  and  the  offenders  are  removed  to 
another  audit.  You  know  not,  my  lord,  what  you 
asked  when  you  offered  to  become  my  champion. 

"  You  adjure  me  by  our  past  loves,  by  the  never  to 
be  erased  remembrance  of  that  holy  attachment ;  I 
also  adjure  you,  love  my  innocent  Emily.  Let  not  my 
misfortunes  corrode  your  peace,  for  on  that  depends 
the  felicity,  I  might  say  the  life,  of  the  gentle  being 
to  whom  I  owe  the  happiness  of  my  later  years.  She 
has  no  faults  but  such  extreme  susceptibility  and  timid 
diffidence,  as  are  painful  to  the  possessor,  and  require 
the  support  of  every  generous  heart. 

"  You  ask  me  if  you  can  assuage  my  sorrows  ?  If, 
without  breach  of  that  high  sense  of  decorum  which  I 
know  you  to  possess,  you  would  sometimes  allow  me 
the  society  of  my  dear  adopted  child  at  Lime  Grove, 
I  should  receive  every  addition  of  joy  of  which  my  lot 
is  capable.  I  submit  this  request  to  your  judgment, 
and  better  knowledge  of  the  opinion  which  is  enter- 
tained of  me.  Emily  shall  never  know  I  have  formed 
this  wish,  nor  will  I  owe  its  fulfilment  to  her  tender- 
ness, but  to  your  discretion.  My  incessant  prayers  are 
offered  for  your  mutual  happiness. 

Selina  Delamore." 

"  To  Lady  Selina  Delamore. 
w  Madam, 
<(  Had  you  honoured  me  with  the  confidence  I  re- 
quested, my  acquiescence  with  your  wishes  would 
have  been  guided  by  that  clear  knowledge  of  every  cir- 
cumstance which  now  unhappily  is  denied  me.  I  can 
therefore  only  repeat  your  own  expressions,  "  my  wife 
must  be  as  untainted  in  her  fame  as  in  her  person." 
Yourself,  madam,  must  be  the  fittest  judge,  how  far  an 
intercourse  with  you  is  consistent  with  my  honour. 

VOL.  I.  Q_ 


176  THE  REFUSAL. 

"  I  cannot  close  this  soul-harrowing  correspondence 
in  the  language  of  unforgiving  resentment.  Cold  and 
distrustful  as  you  are,  I  cannot  divest  myself  of  a  lively 
interest  in  your  fortunes.  Among  other  evils  you  enu- 
merate that  of  a  contracted  income  ;  this  must  not  be 
while  I  possess  affluence.  You  have  a  natural,  if  not 
a  legal  right  to  the  moiety  of  Emily's  estate  ;  for  Lord 
Montolieu's  unjust  preference  of  his  eldest  daughter  is 
indefensible.  Since  it  is  your  determination  to  conti- 
nue in  retirement  I  should  only  encumber  you  by  in- 
sisting on  your  taking  your  full  share  ;  but,  unless*  jou 
are  resolved  to  disregard  every  proposal  I  can  make, 
you  must  allow  your  niece  to  remit  you  your  present 
annual  stipend  every  quarter,  and  the  inclosed  deed  se- 
cures the  perpetuity  of  this  settlement.  I  blush  to  dis- 
cover how  cruelly  your  liberal  spirit  has  hitherto  been 
circumscribed.  If  there  be  any  other  method  by  which 
I  can  alleviate  your  -.lifricuities,  command  the  services 
of  him  who  is  ever  your  faithtul  friend. 

"  AVONDEL." 

<l  To  the  Earl  of  Avondel. 
"  My  lord, 

u  I  have  neither  natural  nor  legal  claim  on  the  pro- 
perty your  wife  inherits,  yet,  to  convince  you  I  am  suf- 
ficiently humble  to  re ceive  obligation  where  I  acknow- 
ledge esteem,  1  thankfully  accept  your  generous  settle- 
ment. I  will  owe  the  addition  -wholly  to  yourself.  I 
do  not  wish  Emily  should  know  ol  your  bounty,  nor 
of  my  former  difficulties.  But  since,  after  allowing 
mvself  every  additional  gratification,  I  can  even  fancy 
I  may  want,  I  shall  now  have  a  large  surplus,  you  must 
permit  me  to  consider  myself  as  Emily's  almoner,  and 
to  distribute  in  her  name  the  superfluities  which  I  de- 
rive from  her  inheritance. 

M  This  correspondence  has  not  been  wholly  painful, 
for  it  proves  that  you  have  forgiven  me,  and  that  I  still 
possess  your  pity  and  your  fi  iend^hip.  I  submit  to 
your  suggestion  without  a  murmur,  but,  as  my  dear 
child  can  suffer  no  reproach  from  corresponding  with 


THE  REFUSAL.  177 

me,  I  trust  this  indulgence  may  be  sometimes  allowed 
on  the  strict  condition  that  it  passes  under  your  in- 
spection. I  fear  Emily  is  so  attached  to  me  that  even 
your  tenderness  would  not  be  a  sufficient  compensation 
to  render  her  happy,  if  you  insist  upon  an  immediate 
and  total  breach.  Besides  this,  I  have  neither  wants 
nor  wishes ;  should  any  arise,  I  will  appeal  to  your 
friendship,  in  full  confidence  that  your  goodness  will 
never  reject,  nor  your  wisdom  mislead  me.  Till  then 
farewel. 

"  Selina  Delamore." 

"  And  farewel  too,"  said  Lord  Avondel,  "  thou  be- 
witching inexplicable  being ;  yet  perhaps,  after  all,  only 
a  wayward  trifler  with  my  happiness  and  thy  own.  Thy 
renewed  remembrance  burst  upon  me  arrayed  in  all  thy 
apparent  truth  and  loveliness,  but  like  Ossian's  ghosts 
thou  hast  vanished  in  mist  and  storm,  and  left  the 
cheated  fool  who  believed  himself  pursuing  a  superior 
being,  engaged  in  following  the  same  ignis  fatuus  which 
has  misled  him  through  life.  The  hand-writing,  the 
sentiments,  renewed  the  idea  of  early  confidence  ;  my 
soul  rushed  forth  to  meet  her  with  all  the  impassioned 
warmth  of  fond  sincerity.  A  reply,  chilling  as  win- 
ter, nipped  my  ardours.  I  asked  what  I  deemed  a 
kindred  mind  to  intrust  me  with  its  wrongs,  and  I  re- 
ceived a  prudent  lecture  on  duty  :  I  was  reminded  that 
I  had  an  uxorious  young  wife  who  was  tenacious  of 
every  'moiety  of  my  affection  ;  and  thus  my  fancied 
paragon  betrays  the  littleness  of  her  sex,  doubts  when 
she  should  place  implicit  confidence,  and  fears  the 
phantoms  her  own  imagination  has  formed,  till  she 
terms  scrupulousness  delicacy,  and  suspicion  wisdom  ! 
'Tis  too  late  to  regret  that  I  have  soothed  her  vanity  by 
avowing  the  power  she  has  over  me.  Important  duties 
happily  will  divert  my  time  and  thoughts  from  the  ca- 
pricious sex.  Henceforth,  I  will  be  anv  thing  but  a 
lover." 

Had  Lord  Avondel  condescended  to  learn  the  uses 
of  affliction  from  the  meek  and  devout  recluse,  whom 


178  THE  REFUSAL. 

lie  alternately  revered  and  condemned,  he  would  have 
entered  on  those  engagements  to  which  he  determined 
to  devote  all  the  powers  of  his  vigorous  enlightened 
mind,  with  a  spirit  better  prepared  to  sustain  the  ap- 
proaching trials.  But  his  high  sense  of  his  own  merits 
had  taught  him  to  expect  happiness  as  a  right,  and  he 
considered  every  opposition  to  his  claims  of  full  suc- 
cess and  high  enjoyment  as  an  infringement  of  his 
lawful  property,  not  as  a  trial  of  his  patience  and  wis- 
dom ;  as  a  violation  of  which  he  might  complain,  not 
as  a  correction  to  which  he  ought  to  submit.  His  de- 
signs were  always  noble  :  the  general  good  of  his  spe- 
cies, the  happiness  of  all  h'\6  connections,  the  universal 
empire  of  benevolence  and  honour — Ought  such  de- 
signs to  be  counteracted  ?  ought  the  exertions  of  ability, 
integrity,  and  beneficence  to  be  thwarted  by  folly,  frus- 
trated by  meanness,  or  superseded  by  the  narrow 
views  of  cold-hearted  selfishness?  This  would  not  be 
right,  yet.  Lord  Avondel,  such  is  the  state  of  this 
world,  arid  this  world  is  governed  by  Divine  Provi- 
dence !  These  disappointments,  therefore,  of  enlarged 
views  and  noble  intentions,  mast  happen  by  the  permis- 
sion and  with  the  foreknowledge  of  God  ;  consequent- 
ly some  real  advantage  will  result  from  these  seeming 
evils,  the  issues  of  which  must  be  sought  in  a  future 
world. 

Lord  Avondel  was  not  so  fastidious  and  unreflecting 
a  being  as  to  expect,  diat  he  could  secure  the  enjoy- 
ments due  to  binh  and  station  without  enduring  per- 
sonal inconv.  nience  and  mental  labour.  These,  like 
the  duties  of  the  tented  field,  he  considered  as  glorious 
toils,  and  much  of  his  satisfaction  consisted  in  his  self- 
felicitation,  when,  on  reviewing  his  own  conduct,  he 
considered  the  adroitness  with  which  he  had  vanquish- 
ed opposition,  surmounted  difficulty,  and  detected 
fraud.  But  then  he  required  that  success  should  ulti- 
mately crown  his  labours.  The  world  must  honour,  not 
his  address  only,  but  also  his  good  fortune.  Above  all, 
he  must  be  soothed  with  the  choral  of  congenial  spi- 
rits, possessed  of  capacities  and  engaged  in  pursuits  si- 


THE  REFUSAL.  179 

roilar  to  his  own,  to  enable  them  to  discern  his  merit, 
and  with  sufficient  magnanimity  to  confess  his  superi- 
ority. It  was  in  this  point  of  view  he  had  once  beheld 
Selina  Delamore,  and  when  the  resentment  which  her 
refusal  to  repose  in  him  the  confidence  which  his  at- 
tachment and  his  wrongs  gave  him  a  right  to  demand 
had  excited,  had  so  far  cooled  as  to  allow  him  to  re- 
flect, he  acknowledged  that  thus  he  ought  still  to  regard 
her.  His  young  countess  was  amiable,  gentle,  and  af- 
fectionate ;  too  timid  and  susceptible,  as  her  aunt 
justly  observed.  Fortitude  was  a  most  essential  qua- 
lity in  a  woman,  without  it,  considered  as  the  wedded 
partner  of  a  man  of  enterprize,  she  was  but  "  a  fair 
defect  in  nature."  In  the  views  he  had  formed  of  fe- 
male worth,  fortitude  was  the  leading  virtue.  Selina 
possessed  this  quality.  She  could  suffer  either  pain  or 
sorrow  without  complaining.  How  could  he  overlook 
the  want  of  this  quality  in  Emily  ?  But  Emily  was 
not  his  choice.  He  would  either  have  walked  solitary 
to  his  grave,  or  had  a  companion  to  whom  he  might 
have  imparted  his  high  designs,  and  whom  he  might 
have  consulted  upon  any  important  emergency,  instead 
of  an  apprehensive  child  who  was  ever  needing  his 
instruction  or  fearing  his  displeasure.  Yet,  as  he  had 
married  Emily,  the  world  never  should  say  he  had 
been  mercenary,  nor  should  she  complain  that  her  pre- 
ference hid  been  bestowed  on  a  proud  ungrateful  man, 
while  Selina  accused  him  of  paining  the  fond  crea- 
ture who  lived  but  for  him.  A  whirl  of  ideas  suc- 
ceeded, which  ended  in  a  closer  application  to  political 
speculations. 

The  young  countess,  like  her  lord,  was  a  determin- 
ed expectant  of  full  and  perfect  happiness,  but  then, 
as  she  had  found  those  essential  ingredients  in  him 
which  he  sought  in  the  fortunate  result  of  his  labours, 
she  only  wanted  that  consciousness  of  her  own  deserv- 
ings  (ot  which  her  noble  husband  was  not  deficient)  to 
be  truly  blest.  She  soon  discovered  that  by  lifting  the 
lid  of  the  mysterious  casket,  she  had,  like  Pandofa, 
suffered  a  host  of  cares  and  doubts  to  escape,  and 
Q2 


180  THE  REFUSAL. 

these  continually  haunted  her  in  the  shape  of  convic- 
tions of  her  own  unworthiness,  and  of  her  dissimili- 
tude, and  inferiority  to  the  person  who  had  once  wholly 
possessed,  and  still  obviously  shared,  the  heart  of 
Avondel.  Apprehensive  from  extreme  gentleness,  and 
depressed  from  humility,  Lady  Avondel  was  one  of 
the  few  people  who  think  too  much  of  their  own  de- 
fects to  correct  them.  The  conspicuous  station  in 
which  her  husband's  talents  placed  her,  was  ill-suited 
to  her  temper  and  character.  Embarrassed  by  the  at- 
tention of  the  circle  in  which  she  moved,  she  was  ever 
shrinking  from  the  self-possession  and  frankness  of  a 
hostess  into  the  retiring  delicacy  of  a  modest  guest, 
and  if,  conscious  of  omission,  she  forced  herself  out 
of  the  back  ground,  she  generally  made  some  mal-a- 
propos  inquiry  or  ill-sorted  compliment.  She  haran- 
gued on  the  delights  of  domestic  life  to  old  bachelors, 
and  uttered  a  panegyric  on  independence  to  led  cap- 
tains and  place  hunters.  She  asked  Mrs.  Bloomwell 
the  age  of  her  eldest  daughter,  and  reminded  Miss 
Hecatissa  Gorgon  of  the  ravages  of  the  small  pox  by 
inquiring  if  it  was  she  who  had  been  sung  under  the 
charactei  of  "  Clormda,  whom  none  can  approach 
without  losing  their  heart  or  their  senses  ?"  Many 
people  called  Lady  Avondel  a  sarcastic  wit,  more 
thought  her  a  fool.  In  reality  she  was  neither  of  these 
characters,  but  a  well-principled,  well-intentioned 
young  woman,  acting  in  a  sphere  which  did  not  suit 
her,  alarming  some  of  her  acquaintance  from  the  ex- 
cess of  her  own  fears,  and  offending  others  by  attempt- 
ing to  be  superlatively  agreeable. 

"  Ii  was  the  universal  opinion,  that  so  fine  a  gentle- 
man as  the  Earl  of  Avondel  ought  to  improve  the 
manners  of  his  wife,  and  if  anxiety  to  have  the  per- 
son who  shared  his  title  reflect  lustre  on  his  coronet, 
would  have  made  Emily  a  move  a. goddess  and  look  a 
queen,"  while  presiding  at  his  banquets,  or  doing  the  ho- 
nours on  her  own  public  days  ;  the  amiable  young  count- 
ess would  have  fulfilled  all  his  wishes  by  appearing  as 
chc  reflection  of  his  own  unquestioned  brightness. — 


THE  REFUSAL  igl 

But  not  the  most  invidious  of  those  many  enemies, 
which  her  apparent  good  fortune  and  real  desert  at- 
tracted, could  more  severely  judge  or  faithfully  enu- 
merate her  own  little  errors  than  the  conscious,  self- 
accusing  Emily  ;  and  her  graceful  instructor  often 
found  himself  compelled  from  humanity  to  soften  the 
humiliation  of  her  own  reproaches,  rather  than  ad- 
monish her  to  avoid  a  repetition  of  her  petty  trans- 
gressions. Her  dejection  at  knowing  herself  to  have 
behaved  ridiculously  was  so  painful  to  his  generous 
spirit,  that,  as  the  lesser  evil,  the  all-elegant,  all-com- 
manding, Avondel  was  content  to  see  his  consort  hur- 
ry through  the  stated  round  of  ceremony  like  a  board- 
ing school  girl  at  her  dancing  master's  ball.  I  speak  of 
the  boarding  school  girl  of  the  last  century,  who,  with 
tears  in  her  eyes  and  blushes  on  her  cheek,  performed  her 
first  public  minuet  with  trepidation,  rejoiced  when  it 
was  over,  and,  instead  of  anticipating  praise,  was 
only  desirous  to  avoid  committing  a  very  egregious 
blunder.  In  Lady  Avondel's  vocabulary  the  axiom 
of  "  know  thy  own  self"  was  not  interpreted  to  mean, 
know  thy  own  perfections,  believe  thyself  the  first 
person  in  the  room,  and  hold  every  one  cheap  who 
doubts  thy  superiority.  She  read  in  it  a  perpetual  me- 
mento of  her  own  personal  insignificance  and  unde- 
served elevation.  How  praiseworthy  soever  diffidence 
may  be  in  the  abstract,  like  all  other  virtues  it  wants 
the  correction  of  judgment,  and  in  the  amiable  Emily 
it  destroyed  a  quality  which  her  arduous  situation  pe- 
culiarly required,  I  mean  self-possession. 


[   182  J 


CHAPTER  XII. 


"  Behold  the  band  of  slender  thought 
And  easy  faith,  whom  flattering-  fancy  sooths 
With  lying"  spectres,  in  themselves  to  view 
Illustrious  forms  of  excellence  and  good 
That  scorn  the  mansion." 

Ake>: 


"  EXTREME  solicitude  overshoots  the  mark." — » 
This  adage  cannot  be  too  often  repeated  to  those  who 
mistake  nervous  susceptibility  for  virtue,  and  value  the 
ever  toiling  effort  as  highly  as  the  beneficial  effect. — 
Lord  Avondel's  approbation  was  so  necessary  to  Emily's 
repose,  that  she  never  could  listen  to  those  remarks 
which  pointed  at  her  behaviour  with  that  state  of  feel- 
ing which  promises  improvement.  In  the  agony  of 
knowing  she  deserved  severer  censure,  she  lost  sight 
of  those  delicate  delineations  of  manner  which  would 
have  insured  his  future  approbation. 

"  Did  not  you,"  said  he  to  her,  "  the  other  night 
decline  Lord  Glenvorne's  assistance  at  the  opera,  and 
immediately  after  desire  Sir  Joseph  Caddy  to  conduct 
you  to  your  carriage  :" 

"  Indeed  I  did  ;  it  was  extremely  silly,  but  at  the 
moment  I  recollected  Lord  Glenvorne's  former  pre- 
tensions, and  I  thought  it  would  be  more  delicate  to 
have  a  married  chaperon." 

"  I  am  amazed,"  replied  the  earl,  "  that  with  so 
much  genuine  delicacy  you  have  not  more  of  that  mo- 
dest confidence  which  it  tends  to  inspire.  Lord  Glen- 
vorne  is  my  friend.  In  that  capacity  he  offered  you 
the  common  attentions  of  a  gentleman.  You  started 
at  his  appearance,  threw  an  alarmed  eye  round  the 
lobby,  and  at  last  hurried  off  with  the  little  nabob  as 


THE  REFUSAL.  183 

if  he  had  actually  rescued  you  from  a  Sir  Hargrave 
Pollexfen." 

"  Did  you  observe  me,  my  Lord  ?  I  thought  you 
were  engaged  in  the  next  box." 

"  Be  assured,  Emily,  that  wherever  my  attention 
may  seem  to  be  fixed,  you  are  ever  the  most  interest- 
ing object.  I  must  add,  I  hope  no  one  else  observed 
you.  Uncandid  people  might  think  you  declined  the 
Marquis's  civilities  because  he  was  too  interesting,  or 
they  might  degrade  me  with  the  imputation  of  being 
an  austere  suspicious  husband." 

Who  durst  be  so  ungenerous  as  to  form  such  ground- 
less conclusions  ?"  said  Emily,  her  eyes  swimming 
with  tears. 

u  Common  observers,  the  numerous  tribe  of  gos- 
sips, those  pests  of  every  clime,  from  whose  inventive 
facukies  I  have  deeply  suffered.  'Tis  the  occupation 
of  the  idle  to  watch  your  terrified  looks,  and  they  de- 
termine never  to  be  ignorant  of  the  secret  cause  of 
every  casual,  action.  Let  me  ask  you,  if  such  ob- 
servers are  now  present  would  thev  not  be  justified  in 
reporting  me  to  be  a  stern  forbidding  master,  school- 
ing my  trembling  pupil  into  perfect  obedience." 

"  No,"  said  Emily,  energetically ;  "  they  would 
see  a  generous  husband  bearing  with  the  weakness  of 
a  heart  which  he  knows  to  be  all  his  own,  and  endea- 
vouring to  make  his  wife  acquire  that  distinction  on  her 
own  account  which  now  she  only  borrows  from  the 
eminence  of  his  character." 

Lord  Avondel  acknowledged  this  grateful  compli- 
ment with  a  smile,  which  seemed  to  say,  "  Whatever 
your  faults  are  certainly  you  do  not  want  penetration." 

Emily  determined  that  next  time  she  saw  Lord 
Glenvorne  the  censorious  should  not  quote  her  avoid- 
ance of  him  in  proof  that  he  was  too  interesting.  They 
met  at  the  drr.  wing-room.  He  bowed  slightly  and 
passed  on.  *'  Doubtless/'  thought  the  countess,  "  he 
is  piqued;  now  thev  will  determine  us  to  be  lovers.  I 
must  go  and  speak  to  him  immediately." 


184  THE  REFUSAL. 

She  followed  him  with  an  anxiety  that  prevented 
her  from  considering  what  she  should  say.  She  found 
him  conversing  with  several  gentlemen,  and  accosted 
him  by  his  title  ;  but  the  fear  of  being  impertinent  now 
seized  her:  every  subject  of  conversation  fled  from  her 
recollection,  and  she  could  only  ask  if  he  had  seen  her 
lord. 

"  I  have  the  honour  of  presenting  him  to  you," 
said  the  Marquis,  turning  to  one  of  his  campanions, 
"  and  of  congratulating  you,  my  lord,  on  your  singu- 
lar felicity.  In  this  large  circle  Lady  Avondel  only 
looks  for  vou."     He  bowed  and  retired. 

w  Did  you  want  me  ?"  said  Lord  Avondel,  in  a  low 
tone. 

"  No,"  returned  Emily :  "  only  as  I  was  so  rude  to 
Lord  Glenvorne  at  the  opera  I  thought  I  would  speak 
to  him  first." 

"  And  was  there  no  other  topic  of  conversation  but 
inquiring  after  me  ?  I  had  but  just  left  you  :  have  you 
been  spoken  to  r" 

«  Yes." 

fi  Then  there  is  but  one  way  to  silence  the  invidi- 
ous." He  laid  her  trembling  hand  upon  his  arm  and 
led  her  to  her  chair. 

"  When,"  said  Emily,  '<  shall  I  learn  to  acquit  my- 
self in  public  with  such  propriety  as  will  preserve  you 
from  being  embarrassed  by  my  folly." 

"  When  you  are  content  to  improve  those  opportuni- 
ties of  civility  which  spontaneously  offer,  without  dis- 
tressing yourself  and  others  by  attempting  to  do  too 
much.  I  must  now  go  back,  and  apologise  for  the 
Secretary  of  State's  being  ferreted  out  of  the  diploma- 
tic circle  by  his  lady.  Prepare  yourself  to  answer 
cards  of  inquiry,  for  I  must  insinuate  that  you  were 
overcome  by  the  heat  of  the  apartment." 

"  Would  I  could  add  I  was  entirely  recovered  from 
my  habitual  awkwardness.  Seriously,  my  lord,  I  can 
never  dare  appear  in  public  under  this  continual  terror 
of  disgracing  you." 


THE  REFUSAL.  185 

"  You  use  a  strong  and  improper  term.  Disgrace 
attends  guilt,  and  honour  presides  in  the  tribunal  which 
jusdy  banishes  real  criminals  from  society.  There  is, 
however,  an  inferior  court  governed  by  ridicule,  and 
though  here  inflictions  are  allowed  to  be  often  arbitrary 
and  unjust,  I  must  deprecate  the  idea  of  your  being 
exposed  to  her  censures.  As  to  the  court  of  honour, 
Emily,  never  had  husband  less  fear  of  seeing  his  wile 
amenable  to  its  jurisdiction." 

"  You  are  ever  kind  and  conciliatory,  my  lord,  and 
I  am  encouraged  by  thinkir.g  thai"  only  petty  trespasses 
come  under  the  jurisdiction  of  ridicule." 

"  I  have  never  found,"  answered  the  earl  gravely, 
"  that  persons  long  continued  respectable  after  they 
had  become  ridiculous." 

k'  Then,"  said  Emily,  "  I  must  as  usual  take  shelter 
under  your  wing,  and  defy  the  shafts  of  undiscerning 
wit." 

"  Rather  learn  to  be  self  dependent.  When  you  are 
alone  in  your  own  dressing  room  act  and  think  as  if 
you  had  hundreds  observing  you,  and  when  you  move 
in  a  crowded  circle  maintain  that  self-respect  which  will 
make  you  feel  as  recollected  as  if  3'ou  were  at  borne." 
u  Surely,"  thought  Lord  Avondel,  as  he  answered 
the  numerous  inquiries  after  his  countess  on  his  reiurn 
to  the  drawing  room,  "  if  posterity  does  not  recognize 
me  as  the  first  of  statesmen,  I  deserve  to  be  immortal- 
ized as  the  best  of  husbands!" 

Whoever  is  acquainted  with  the  temperature  of  the 
fashionable  world  knows,  that  to  keep  its  atmosphere 
in  a  state  tit  for  respiration  frequent  agitation  is  neces- 
sary, and  if  routs,  elopements,  masquerades,  and  new 
operas,  (which  may  be  termed  the  hurricanes  of  this 
climate)  do  not  succeed  each  other  with  suihcient  velo- 
city to  ward  off  die  dangers  of  stagnation,  some  patri- 
otic characters  contrive  to  prevent  the  morbid  evils  at- 
tendant on  a  dearth  of  conversation  by  inventing  and 
calculating  a  lie.  Now  it  happens  in  this  region,  as 
in  some  ottv.  r  parts  of  the  world,  that  the  medical  de- 
partment is  filled  by  old  women,  who,  from  time  im- 


186  THE  REFUSAL. 

memorial,  have  been  appointed  to  watch  where  the 
health  of  the  community  required  the -animating  cor- 
dial of  a  falsehood,  and  to  drug  the  charmed  bowl 
with  a  proper  quantity  of  stimulating  ingredients. 
Probably  such  institutions  may  not  now  subsist,  but  at 
the  time  I  am  speaking  of  an  old  cat  party  (as  it  was 
called)  met  every  evening  at  the  Duchess  of  Stingwell's, 
to  talk  over  the  events  which  either  had  happened,  or 
were  adjudged  probable.  The  president  of  this  divan 
was  a  woman  of  talent,  who,  with  an  affectation  of 
contempt  for  the  world,  nourished  a  secret  grudge 
against  it  for  not  having  paid  her  sufficient  homage, 
and  having  failed  in  her  early  years  to  dazzle  as  a 
beauty,  she  determined  when  she  grew  old  to  alarm  as 
a  wit.  Her  coterie  embraced  all  who  were  seldom  in- 
vited to  other  parties  ;  dowagers  who  could  not  afford 
to  play  deep,  and  spinsters  whose  scanty  portions  for- 
bade their  taking  the  lead  in  fashion.  All  who  were 
destitute  of  those  credentials  which  allowed  them  to 
mix  in  the  world,  and  yet  wanted  sufficient  quietness 
of  disposition  to  bid  it  willingly  adieu.  Her  grace, 
who  had  been  once  complimented  on  her  talent  for  sar- 
casm, was  equally  celebrated  for  cutting  up  the  censors 
and  the  censured.  Yet,  though  from  htr  keen  reproofs 
to  the  former  she  seemed  to  intimate  that  she  abhorred 
the  innuendos  which  her  guests  circulated,  she  was  in 
reality  one  of  those  splenetic  valetudinarians  who  find 
both  food  and  physic  in  a  spirited  slander.  Her  guests 
too  well  knew  her  secret  propensity,  and  were  too 
much  gratified  by  being  admitted  to  her  converzasio- 
nes,  and  having  a  card  from  a  carriage  with  a  ducal 
coronet  occasionally  left  at  their  door,  to  be  piqued  at 
the  disdainful  air  with  which  she  often  received  their 
communications,  or  to  believe  her  sincere  in  her  vindi- 
cation of  the  devoted  victims  they  chose  to  asperse. 

On  the  day  on  which  Lord  Avondel  felicitated  him- 
self on  having  played  the  part  of  an  attentive  husband 
in  the  most  dexterous  manner,  the  Duchess  of  Sting- 
well  held  one  of  her  attic  evenings. 


V 


THE  REFLSW,.  187 

Mrs.  Caudle  introduced  the  subject.  "  I  know," 
said  she,  "  your  grace  is  deeply  interested  in  the  pros- 
perity of  the  noble  house  or  Avondel,  and  I  have 
great  pleasure  in  assuring  you  that  an  heir  may  be  ex- 
pected. The  countess  tainted  in  the  presence  to  dav, 
and  his  lordship  was  so  alarmed  and  assiduous — I  hear 
he  makes  a  most  tender  husband? — 

"  To  rather  an  affected  sill)'  wile,1'  continued  Mrs. 
Bloomwell.  "  Whether  the  fainting  was  artificial,  I 
cannot  determine,  but  I  am  sure  there  was  some  art  in 
the  rase  ;  for  I  heard  her  colour  was  quite  carnation 
as  she  was  carried   down  the  great  staircase." 

"  Carried  down  the  great  staircase  ?"  resumed  Mrs. 
Caudle,  "•  I  did  not  hear  that.  Bless  me,  how  verv 
shocking  in  her  situation  !  but  I  remember  once  before 
I  was  confined — " 

"•  The  fainting  was  not  artifice,  I  assure  your  grace," 
observed  Miss  Hecatissa  Gorgon  ;  "  but  I  much  doubt 
its  arising  from  the  cause  Mrs.  Caudle  supposes. — ■ 
There  actually  Mas  a  most  unpleasant  altercation  in 
public.  Lady  Auricle  heard  the  earl  vehemently  scold 
her  as  he  put  her  into  the  chair,  and " 

"  Poor,  sweet,  pretty  young  creature  ;"  exclaimed 
a  lady,  who,  though  past  her  grand  climacteric,  still 
wrote  Miss  Dizen  upon  her  cards,  and  trembled  lest 
Hymen  should  one  day  entrap  her  in  his  cast  net  ; 
"  what  dreadful  creatures  men  are  !  But  Sir  Walter 
Mandeville  made  up  this  match,  and  sacrificed  the 
dear  love  before  she  knew  how  to  act.  You  Lady 
Caddy  know  the  whole  story,  for  I  think  you  almost 
lived  at  Castle  MandtviUe." 

"  No,  Madam,  I  assure  you,"  returned  the  nabob's 
lady  colouring,  "  I  now  and  then  looked  in  on  the  old 
baronet,  and  punished  myself  with  listening  to  his  vale- 
tudinarian complaints.  As  to  Lord  Avondel,  he  never 
was  a  favourite  of  mine." 

"  Nor  of  mine  either,"  returned  Miss  Dizen.  "  If 
he  had  made  proposals  to  me  1  wouid  not  have  marri- 
ed him  for  fifty  worlds.  O,  Lord  Gienvorne  was  a 
thousand  times  the  best  connection." 

VOL.    I.  R 


188  THE  REFUSAL. 

"  But,"  inquired  the  duchess,  "  what  caused  the  dis- 
pute between  the  earl  and  countess  ?" 

"  I  meant  to  inform  your  grace,  if  the  company  will 
permit,"  resumed  Miss  Hecatissa,  significantly  look- 
ing at  Miss  Dizen  with  the  affectionate  air  common  to 
rival  beauties.  "  Lord  Glenvorne  and  Lady  Avondel 
were  lounging  against  the  window  saying  no  harm  in 
in  the  world  ;  but  just  chit  chat,  as,  Lord  how  hot — 
What  a  quiz — I  think  that  head  tolerable — Pray  do 
you  like  that  architectural  trimming  all  frieze  and  pilas- 
ter,  but  the  wearer  seems  of  the  composite  order — As 
I  live  the  German  baroness  in  her  yellow  satin — 
Well  the  sight  of  an  old  acquaintance  is  comfortable — " 

Miss  Hecatissa  stopped  for  the  exhilerating  charms 
of  laugh,  the  company  chimed  in  and  she  proceeded. 

"  In  the  midst  of  these  innocent  remarks  up  stalked 
Lord  Avondel.  Your  grace  knows  how  ;  stiff  as  a 
drill  serjeant,  and  extending  his  right  arm,  said  very 
solemnly,  u  Your  ladyship  had  better  go  home."  The 
poor  lady,  fainted  away  directly,  and  my  lord  followed 
muttering  down  the  great  staircase." 

The  company  observed,  it  was  the  most  shocking 
affair  they  ever  heard,  and  the  duchess  inquired  if 
Lady  Auricle  heard  all  that  passed  ?  "  Every  sen- 
tence," replied  Miss  Hecatissa. 

"  Really,"  said  the  duchess,  "  her  powers  of  hear- 
ing are  astonishing.  Was  she  placed  in  the  drawing 
room  or  in  the  court  ?" 

Miss  Hecatissa  paused,  and  then  added,  Lady  Au- 
ricle was  so  kind  as  to  follow  the  countess,  thinking 
she  might  want  assistance. 

"  It  would  have  been  still  kinder  if  she  had  been  a 
silent  assistant,"  resumed  her  grace. 

Lady  Caddy  now  fanned  the  embers  of  slander  which 
the  duchess's  mal-a-propos  observations  threatened  to 
extinguish,  by  expressing  her  fears  it  was  too  true. — 
"  I  hope,"  said  she,  "  it  will  not  draw  Lord  Glenvorne 
into  any  embarrassment.  His  mother  is  the  best  friend 
I  have  in  the  world.     The  worthiest,  most  exemplary 


THE  REFUSAL.  189 

creature  !  If  any  thing  happens  to  her  son  it  will  break 
her  heart  ;   I  hope  she  knows  nothing  of  it." 

"  I  don't  say,"  continued  Miss  Hecatissa,  that  the 
world  goes  so  far  as  to  call  Lord  Avondel  jealous,  or 
to  hint  at  any  thing  wrong  about  Lord  Glenvorne  ;  but 
we  all  know  she  is  dreadfully  distressed  in  the  mar- 
quis's company." 

Every  body  owned  they  had  observed  it,  though  in 
fact  Lady  Caddy  was  the  only  person  who  was  autho- 
rised to  speak  on  the  subject  by  having  actually  wit- 
nessed their  interviews.  She  alone  was  silent,  but 
shook  her  head  in  a  manner  more  impressive  than  the 
most  sententious  observation.  She  again  hoped  the 
affair  was  quite  a  secret. 

"  It  is  in  admirable  hands  to  remain  so,"  said  the 
duchess,  surveying  her  myrmidons.  They  all  agreed, 
that  since  the  happiness  of  a  newly  married  pair,  and 
the  reputation  of  a  lady,  were  most  tender  points,  it 
was  excessively  wrong  to  talk  of  such  strange  proceed- 
ings. 

The  assembly  broke  up  about  one  o'clock,  and  for 
twelve  hours  very  little  was  said  upon  the  subject,  ex- 
cepting to  humble  cousins  and  confidential  Abigails. 
About  noon  the  next  day.  Lady  Caddy  made  an  early 
call  on  her  friend  the  marchioness  to  inquire  if  she 
had  heard  any  thing  of  the  young  countess  ?  "  No," 
returned  Lady  Glenvorne,  "  my  son  dined  there  ves- 
terday  after  the  drawing-room,  and  escorted  her  to  an 
evening  party." 

u  Was  the  earl  at  home  r" 

"  Certainly." 

"  Was  not  that  singular  ?" 

u  Not  in  the  least ;  for  a  statesman  his  habits  are 
quite  domestic.  I  perceive  you  have  heard  of  Emi- 
ly's hurrying  out  of  the  drawing-room,  be  so  kind  as 
to  tell  me  what  the    -orld  has  made  of  that   incident." 

Among  the  daughters  of  discord,  none  are  more 
active  than  the  very  good-natured  people  who  always 
think  it  right  to  tell  their  acquaintance  what  they  know 
will  give  them  uneasiness.     Lady  Caddy  was  of  this 


190  THE  REFUSAL. 

order.  With  much  affected  reluctance,  and  many 
hopes  it  would  not  distress  her,  she  repeated  the  con- 
versation which  passed  at  the  duchess's,  and  affirmed 
it  was  the  general  opinion  that  Lord  Glenvorne  caused 
all  the  unhappiness  ot  the  Avondeis. 

"  Scarcely  a  day  has  passed,"  returned  the  marchi- 
oness, "  without  my  seeing  my  young  friend,  and  it  is 
quite  extraordinary  news  to  me,  to  hear  that  she  and 
her  lord  are  unhappy  ?" 

"  Then,"  said  Lady  Caddy,  "  I  do  trust  that  the 
other  affair  is  a  secret."  "  To  me,  at  least,  it  is,"  re- 
plied Lady  Glenvorne;  nor  will  I  press  you  to  di- 
vulge any  more  painful  mysteries." 

u  O,  my  dearest  madam,  I  place  implicit  confidence 
in  your  honour.  I  know  you  will  not  utter  a  syllable, 
as  it  might  ruin  my  informant."  Then  drawing  her 
chair  close,  in  a  low  whisper  she  assured  the  marchion- 
ess, that  she  knew  Avondel  had  settled  an  annuity  on 
Lady  Selina  Deiamore,  and  corresponded  with  her  at 
that  moment. 

She  added,  u  It  is  too  .bad.  Candour  cannot  sug- 
gest an  apology,  to  employ  the  poor  young  woman's 
fortune  this  way." 

Lady  Glenvorne  inquired,  if  she  was  sure  of  the 
fact  ?  and  Lady  Caddy  vowed  she  could  produce  a 
person  who  knew  her  writing,  and  could  name  the  so- 
licitor who  drew  up  the  deed  of  settlement.  Then 
mustering  her  whole  stock  of  inquisitorial  significance, 
"  As  we  have  gone  so  far,"  said  she,  "  pray  do  you 
know  if  the  child  is  alive  ?" 

"  You  have  infinitely  the  advantage  of  me,"  said  the 
Marchioness,  "  for  I  am  compelled  to  ask  you,  what 
child  ?" 

u  Nay,  my  dear  Lady  Glenvorne,  now  you  are  too 
cautious.  You  must  remember  why  Selina  disappear- 
ed. Mrs.  Caudle  suspected  her  shape  three  months 
before  she  became  invisible." 

"  The  report  you  allude  to,"  replied  the  Marchion- 
ess, "  was  discredited  by  all  well-informed  people  at 
the  time  ;  and   as  you  could  then  be   only  in  your  in- 


THE  REFUSAL.  191 

fancy,  I  must  blame  the  convenient  memory  of  some 
dealer  in  antiquated  scandal  for  not  telling  you,  that 
though  Lord  Avondel's  enemies  attempted  to  promul- 
gate a  silly  story,  it  was  too  absurd  to  be  credited. 
Lady  Selina  was  one  of  my  earliest  and  dearest  friends. 
We  still  occasionally  correspond,  and  I  know  enough 
of  her  history  to  justify  her  character.  I  cannot  under- 
take to  prove  a  negative,  but  if  there  be  any  depend- 
ence on  moral  evidence,  if  it  be  fair  to  draw  conclu- 
sions from  an  unbroken  chain  of  circumstances,  I  may 
assert,  that  neither  Lord  Avondel  nor  Lady  Selina  ever 
have  had  cause  to  blush  at  an  attachment,  singularly 
unfortunate,  I  own,  but  not  disgraceful." 

"  You  rejoice  my  heart,"  returned  Lady  Caddy. 
"  My  warm  affections  really  torment  me.  I  take  too 
lively  an  interest  in  the  distresses  of  those  I  love." 

"  I  honour  sensibility,"  answered  Lady  Glenvorne, 
"  and  to  make  you  quite  happy  let  me  assure  you,  even 
yourself  and  Sir  Joseph  are  not  more  perfect  patterns 
of  domestic  felicity  than  our  friends  in  Berkley-square. 
Glenvorne's  pretensions  to  Emily  were  well  known,  and 
I  most  anxiously  wished  to  embrace  her  as  my  daugh- 
ter. It  required,  therefore,  no  common  merit  in  her 
husband  to  reconcile  us  to  an  event  which  compelled  us 
to  renounce  such  cherished  hopes.  Glenvorne  was  a 
generous  lover,  he  wished  for  the  happiness  of  the  be- 
loved object  even  if  it  were  distinct  from  his  own. 
From  the  ease  with  which  he  meets  her,  now  she  is 
Lady  Avondel,  and  his  warm  admiration  of  her  lord,  I 
am  convinced  love  with  him  has  subsided  into  friend- 
ship. The  extreme  delicacy  of  the  young  countess, 
still  creates  an  awkward  reserve  in  her  manner  to  my 
son,  and  she  seems  to  suppress  her  affectionate  attach- 
ment to  her  lord  in  his  presence  from  a  fear  of  giving 
pain  to  her  rejected  admirer.  This  will  abate  in  time, 
and  the  motive  is  so  refined  that  even  her  reserve  and 
apprehensive  shyness  increase  our  respect  for  her  cha- 
racter." 

Lady  Caddy  doubtless  heard  this  valuable  informa- 
tion with  rapture,  but  as  she  drove  to  her  other  morn- 
r  2 


192  THE  REFUSAL, 

ing  calls,  she  recollected,  that  since  the  Marchioness 
had  not  desired  her  to  contradict  the  rumours  that  were 
afloat  it  would  be  taking  a  great  liberty  to  publish  her 
private  sentiments,  and  at  this  moment  she  determined 
to  abide  by  the  decision  of  that  cabinet  council  of  vir- 
tue and  prudence  assembled  at  the  Duchess  of  Sting- 
well's,  and  to  say  nothing  of  such  strange  proceedings. 

It  may  seem  extraordinary,  that  a  woman  of  Lady 
Caddy's  avowed  candour  and  general  philanthropy, 
and  one  too  who  was  so  tenderly  attached  to  the  dear 
little  Emily,  at  least  during  the  siege  of  Castle  Mande- 
ville,  did  not  voluntarily  undertake  what  seemed  a 
friendly  action.  But  ladies  do  not  always  measure 
their  own  characters  with  such  mathematical  exactness, 
as  to  avoid  taking  credit  for  a  large  quantity  of  those 
virtues  of  which  in  fact  they  have  not  a  scruple.  Be- 
sides, though  the  plant  of  female  friendship  seems  to 
grow  upon  every  soil,  its  roots  frequently  only  spread 
over  the  surface,  and  thus  either  wind  or  sun  absolutely 
destroys  it.  Indeed,  Lady  Avondel  had  not  behaved 
quite  correctly  to  so  susceptible  and  refined  a  person  as 
Lady  Caddy,  or  to  use  plain  English,  to  a  woman  so 
engrossed  with  her  own  perfections,  and  so  apt  to  take 
offence.  The  combined  attractions  of  youth,  modesty, 
gentleness,  and  simplicity,  gave  the  fair  countess  that 
degree  of  eclat  which  the  looms  of  Lyons  or  the  mines 
of  Golconda  were  in  vain  employed  to  secure  to  the 
maturer  charms  of  the  bridal  widow.  Emily  had 
moreover  inconsiderately  refused  to  profit  by  the  taste 
and  judgment  of  her  friend  in  choosing  her  iurniture 
and  arranging  her  parties  ;  and,  worse  than  all,  she  had 
been  guilty  of  the  unparalleled  ingratitude  of  never  ap- 
propriating a  plate  at  the  head  table  at  her  gala  suppers 
to  a  person  who  had  been  so  very  kind  to  her  when 
she  was  quite  a  raw  girl.  But  Lady  Caddy  knew  the 
world,  and  was  not  surprised  at  this  treatment  irom 
one  whom  she  had  noticed  when  she  was  nobody. 

Her  dislike  of  Lord  Avondel  was  publicly  avowed, 
and  as  it  originated  from  his  inherent  qualities,  there 
V)  as  no  hope  of  its  being  subdued.  If  it  were  true,  as  she 


THE  REFUSAL.  193 

protested,  that  she  saw  in  her  own  husband  the  stand- 
ard of  excellence,  her  looking  with  repugnance  on  a 
man  who  exhibited  an  exact  contrast  to  her  adored 
spouse  was  accounted  for.  His  tall  graceful  figure,  his 
majestic  aspect,  large  expressive  eyes,  and  "voice  clear 
as  a  trumpet  with  a  silver  sound  ;"  his  manners  polish- 
ed into  elegance,  not  ground  down  to  foppishness  or 
unreflecting  acquiescence ;  his  high  birth,  his  lofty 
aims,  his  capacious  views,  his  superiority  to  mean  pas- 
sions and  criminal  gratifications,  his  disdain  of  wealth 
and  all  the  low  advantages  and  selfish  enjoyments  it 
could  procure  ;  presented  so  strong  a  dissimilitude  to  a 
little  square  man  whose  person  resembled  a  well  cram- 
med rouleau,  and  whose  broad  flat  features  were  ren- 
dered yet  mere  vapid  and  insignificant  by  being  dis- 
tended with  a  constant  grin,  that  they  scarcely  seemed 
of  the  same  species.  Sir  Joseph  said  nothing  about  his 
parentage.  Fortune  found  him  a  sutler  in  the  British 
camp,  when,  at  the  battle  of  Plassey,  she  rained  pago- 
das on  the  lucky  adventurers,  who  revenged  the  mise- 
ries of  the  suffering  victims  in  the  prison  at  Calcutta 
on  the  perfidious  and  wantonly  cruel  Surajah  Dowla. 
Sir  Joseph  lost  a  brother  in  that  scene  of  indescribable 
distress,  but  he  always  spoke  of  the  circumstance  as  a 
good  thing,  because  it  introduced  him  to  the  considera- 
tion of  the  officers,  and  the  plunder  of  a  Rajah's  tent, 
which  was  awarded  him,  made  him  what  he  called  a 
good  man.  Soon  after,  he  obtained  a  contract  and  thus 
became  a  very  good  man  indeed,  and  being  appointed  a 
permanent  commissioner,  he  was  found  in  that  situa- 
tion by  Lord  Avondel,  with  whom  he  formed  an  official 
acquaintance.  As  he  was  very  punctual  in  performing 
his  engagements,  he  acquired  respect  as  an  industrious 
steady  character,  sufficiently  alert  at  making  bargains. 
All  other  talents,  excepting  those  which  are  requisite 
in  accumulating  and  managing  money,  Sir  Joseph  de- 
spised as  useless,  and  nourished  a  secret  contempt  for 
Lord  Avondel,  who,  with  fine  opportunities,  returned 
from  India  poorar  than  he  went,  and  thus  was  forced 


194  THE  REFUSAL. 

to  marry  a  wife  to  maintain  him  instead  of  choosing 
one  to  his  fancy,  like  himself. 

Ey.en  in  minute  particulars  these  gentlemen  were 
oppotites.  For  as  Lord  Avondel  had  practised  tem- 
perance till  excess  became  distasteful  rather  than  an 
indulgence,  so  Sir  Joseph,  who  saw  in  wealth  no  other 
delight  than  as  it  ministered  to  animal  enjoyment,  led 
a  life  of  misery  from  the  diseases  attending  repletion, 
and  the  torment  of  self-denial.  Thus,  let  selfishness 
embark  in  whatever  vessel  it  pleases  in  search  of  hap- 
piness, it  is  sure  to  get  entangled  among  rocks  and 
quicksands.  Sir  Joseph  cared  for  no  public  calamities 
while  the  Bank  of  England  was  safe.  He  felt  no  anx- 
ieties from  sympathy  ;  for  even  if  Lady  Caddy  died 
he  could  get  another  wife.  Domestic  disappointments 
did  not  trouble  him  ;  for  if  his  pines  rotted  he  had 
money  to  buy  some  at  Covent  Garden.  Yet,  he  too 
found,  that  "  man  was  made  to  mourn."  Agony 
perched  upon  the  turtle  soup,  vexation  hovered  over 
the  under-done  venison,  gout  was  mixed  in  his  sauces 
and  ragouts,  and  phthisic  lurked  in  his  West  India 
sweetmeats.  Thus,  while  Lord  Avondel  felt  his  soul 
wounded  by  some  national  loss  or  disgrace,  vainly 
struggled  against  the  tide  of  faction,  or  deplored  the 
imbecility  of  his  friends  and  the  active  malice  of  his 
enemies,  Sir  Joseph  Caddy  was  grumbling  that  a  man 
cannot  eat  what  he  likes  without  suffering  pain,  and 
devoted  his  time  to  the  study  of  what  good  things 
were  wholesome,  and  how  nature  might  be  assisted  to 
throw  off  her  accumulation  of  undigested  humours 
without  submitting  to  too  severe  a  discipline.  He, 
however,  found  a  little  time  between  his  cook  and  his 
physician  to  join  his  lady  in  laughing  at  Lord  Avondel, 
as  a  man  whose  talents  were  rather  shewy  than  substan- 
tial, as  was  proved  by  his  having  spent  his  life  to  very 
little  purpose. 


[   195   ] 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


O  wherefore  with  a  rash  impetuous  aim 

Seek  ye  those  flowery  joys  with  which  the  hand 

Of  lavish  fancy  paints  each  flattering  scene, 

Where  beauty  seems  to  dwell :  nor  once  inquire 

"Where  is  the  sanction  of  eternal  truth, 

Or  where  the  seal  of  umleceitful  good 

To  save  your  search  from  folly. 

Akenside. 

AMONG  the  nominal  colleagues  of  Lord  Avon- 
del's  political  career  was  the  youthful  Lord  Norbury. 
His  father  had  so  distinguished  himself  on  the  opposi- 
tion benches  as  to  convince  the  uninitiated,  that  if  ever 
the  good  genius  of  England  should  so  far  prevail  as  to 
bring  him  into  office  he  would  make  the  most  uncor- 
rupt  and  enlightened  minister  ;  but  adepts  thought  he 
would  be  an  adroit  active  coadjutor,  useful  in  holding 
out  lures  adapted  to  the  characters  he  had  to  contend 
with,  in  dressing  up  a  bad  cause,  and  in  practising  that 
most  dexterous  part  of  state  machinery,  the  appearing 
perfectly  plausible  and  communicative  and  at  the  same 
time  not  disclosing  one  iota  but  what  was  publicly 
known.  He  had  no  other  objection  to  putting  on  the 
court  livery  than  the  difficulty  of  finding  a  suit  that 
would  fit  him  ;  and  as  soon  as  his  measure  was  exactly 
taken  he  vaulted  from  his  oratorical  tribune  into  the 
treasury  bench,  and  commenced  Baron  Norbury  with 
a  pension  fit  to  support  his  honours.  He  was,  howe- 
ver, soon  found  to  be  an  incumbrance  rather  than  an 
assistant,  for  in  moving  the  machine  of  government  it 
is  necessary  to  draw  altogether  at  a  steady  pace  and 
with  determined  strength.  But  Lord  Norbury  was 
for  curveting,  prancing,  or  standing  still,  biting  at  one 
of  his  yoke  fellows,  and  kicking  another,  gallopping  off 
after  the  casual  game  that  crossed  the  road,  and  falling 


196  THE  REFUSAL. 

down  in  the  first  slough  he  encountered.  In  fine,  he 
was  a  man  of  wonderful  invention,  amazing  projects, 
and  inexhaustible  resources,  but  destitute  of  decision, 
coolness,  and  arrangement.  After  despatching  various 
expeditions, .and  devoting  the  resources  on  which  their 
success  depended  to  other  purposes ;  after  planning 
several  improvements  in  legislature  and  finance,  and 
introducing  new  corruptions  into  every  department, 
Lord  Norbury  discovered  that  his  health  was  unequal 
to  the  fatigues  of  public  life.  He  therefore  retired 
with  some  valuable  sinecures,  and  devoted  his  time  to 
the  education  of  his  son,  who,  he  determined,  should 
be  a  still  more  celebrated  statesman  than  himself,  and 
unite  the  qualities  of  Lycurgus,  Pericles,  and  Demos- 
thenes. 

Though  we  are  all  ready  to  allow,  that  culture  fails 
to  produce  the  perfection  which  parents  expect  from 
its  application,  yet  few  who  have  been  long  and  deep- 
ly occupied  in  instructing  their  own  children  are  will- 
ing to  acknowledge,  that  thev  have  spent  their  time  in 
twisting  a  rope  of  sand.  Lord  Norbury  saw  in  his 
son  all  the  latent  properties  of  a  cot-summate  states- 
man, while  every  discerning  friend  discovered  pro- 
pensities which  would  be  insuperable  impediments  to 
his  acquiring  renown.  The  young  Tuily  was  found 
to  be  like  his  father,  brilliant  rather  than  solid,  and 
more  desirous  "  that  the  club  should  hail  him  master 
of  the  joke,"  than  that  wondering  senates  should  hang 
on  all  his  words.  The  world  is  sometimes  so  good- 
natured  as  to  credit  bills  which  are  drawn  upon  its 
admiration  by  an  established  firm,  without  examining 
whether  they  are  fictitious  drafts  or  securities  of  real 
value.  So  much  was  said  of  the  astonishing  talents 
and  premature  wisdom  or'  Mr.  Davenant,  son  of  the 
great  Lord  Norbury,  that  expectation  stood  on  tiptoe 
to  witness  the  parliamentary  debut  of  this  phenome- 
non. His  maiden  speech  was  extremely  admired  as 
something  out  of  the  common  line,  classical,  spirited, 
and  profound.  I  admit,  if  you  sifted  the  eulogist  nar- 
rowly, they  began  to  talk  of  his  youth,  allowed  he  was 


THE  REFUSAL.  J  97 

not  well  acquainted  with  the  powers  of  his  own  voice, 
that  his  action  might  be  improved,  and  that  his  argu- 
ments, though  ingenious,  had  been  all  used  by  the 
former  speakers  on  the  subject.  His  phraseology  too 
was  rather  crowded  by  a  too  frequent  return  of  those 
unlucky  M  Mr.  Speaker,  I  beg  pardon  Sir,  my  own  ir- 
resistible feeling,"  8cc.  which  are  apt  to  be  strewn  on 
the  harangues  of  novices.  Yet  still  the  speech  was  a 
capital  speech,  that  is,  for  a  young  man  who  was  heir 
to  a  title,  and  new  to  the  forms  of  the  house.  In  fine, 
according  to  the  newspapers,  it  excited  very  powerful 
sensations  in  all  who  heard  it :  and  since  smiling,  wink- 
ing, coughing,  and  gaping,  are  natural  expressions  of 
powerful  sensations,  the  newspapers  said  no  more  than 
what  is  truth,  which  is  a  very  high  commendation. 

Mr.  Davenant  took  his  seat  at  the  board,  where  he 
was  to  learn  the  routine  office  before  he  realized  his 
father's  expectations,  and  rushed  forth  mighty  to  go- 
vern and  to  guide.  But  ere  that  period  arrived,  the 
impenetrable  veil  of  death  dropped  on  the  eyes  of 
Lord  Norbury,  and  if  (indulging  in  poetical  imagina- 
tion) I  attend  his  shade  to  the  Elysian  fields,  where,  as 
in  a  city  coffee-house,  the  heroes  of  classical  antiquity 
walk  about  and  ask  what  news,  I  could  not  with  correct- 
ness introduce  the  parallel  of  Ulysses  in  the  shape  of  a 
a  modern  quidnunc  telling  the  enraptured  sire  the 
speeches  and  measures  of  his  illustrious  son.  From 
the  period  of  his  taking  possession  of  his  fortune  to  the 
time  I  am  treating  of,  the  world  kept  inquiring  what 
Lord  Norbury  was  about.  Much  had  been  said  of  his 
talents  and  patriotic  principles,  surely  envy,  intrigue, 
treachery,  and  a  thousand  similar  hindrances  must 
have  united  to  confine  so  wonderful  a  young  statesman 
behind  the  scenes,  and  to  deprive  his  injured  country 
of  the  grand  specific  which  he  had  been  preparing  for 
all  her  disorders. 

But  Lord  Norbury  was  all  this  time  very  busy,  stu- 
dying tin;  baser  parts  of  society  preparatory  to  his  go- 
verning the  better,  as  Warwick  described  Prince  Hal, 
to  sooth  the  sorrows  of  his  disappointed  father.     His 


198  THE  REFUSAL. 

lordship  drank,  intrigued,  and  frequented  the  two  lead- 
ing gaming  houses,  for  he  was  too  liberal  to  be  a  party 
man  at  dice  or  billiards.  He  became  a  member  of  the 
Savoir  vivre,  and  the  leading  demireps  toasted  him  at 
their  coteries  as  a  divine  feliovv.  I  do  not  mean  that 
he  studied  or  practised  divinity,  or  possessed  what  very 
orthodox  writers  now  call  the  divinity  of  talent,  but  di- 
vine was  the  indefinable  cant  word  of  the  year,  and  was 
applied  to  divine  dresses,  divine  masquerades,  a  divine 
run  of  good  luck,  and  a  divine  eclaircissement ;  I  am 
not  sure  that  there  were  not  divine  elopements,  in 
which  case  I  hope  the  husband  had  divine  damages. 
The  character  of  Lord  Norhury  in  the  world  of  gal- 
lantry was  that  of  a  male  coquet.  He  kept  off  other 
offers  by  persuading  the  unmarried  ladies  he  meant  to 
make  them  an  honourable  proposal ;  and  he  whispered 
away  the  reputation  of  wives  by  insinuating,  that, 
though  renowned  for  secresy,  he  was  more  admired 
by  ladies  and  hated  by  husbands  than  any  man  of  his 
age.  His  fair  auditors  blessed  themselves  when  he 
talked  in '  this  style;  called  him  a  wicked  creature, 
vowed  they  did  not  believe  a  word  he  said,  and  pu- 
nished him  with  violent  blows  with  their  fans,  whis- 
pering each  other  at  the  same  time  "That  he  was  a 
divine  fellow  after  all." 

But  though  Lord  Norbury  was  thus  studying  the 
world  for  his  future  improvement,  he  did  not  forget  his 
present  duties.  He  regularly  attended  the  sittings  of 
the  board  to  which  he  belonged,  that  is,  he  came  in  just 
as  the  business  ended,  nrdded  his  assent  to  what  he 
was  told  they  had  been  doing,  and  while  the  minutes  of 
their  transactions  were  read  pro  forma,  he  enlivened 
the  fiat  routine  of  labour  by  some  inimitable  jests  on 
two  or  three  of  the  humble  members,  who  submitted 
to  be  his  buts,  as  in  that  character  they  had  free  access 
to  hib  table.  Lord  Norbury,  like  some  other  great  men 
of  that  age,  (Heaven  forbid  I  should  allude  to  the  pre- 
sent) fancied  that  as  the  Roman  capitol  had  been  saved 
by  geese,  monkies  might  eventually  prove  the  best 
guardians  of  the  Lritish  empire  :  he  therefore  always 


THE  REFUSAL.  199 

preferred  a  jest  to  a  reason,  and  antic  gestures  to  wise 
suggestions.  Nothing  to  him  was  so  intolerable  as  a 
dry  discussion  of  a  dry  subject;  and  whenever  he 
condescended  to  argue,  he  confuted  his  adversary  with 
sarcasms  and  defended  his  own  opinion  by  flights  of 
fancy.  Thus,  when  his  natural  indolence  could  be 
roused,  he  became  extremely  useful  to  his  party  ;  for, 
in  all  intricate  questions,  I  believe-,  it  is  reckoned,  that 
not  more  than  one  convert  is  gained  by  conviction  .or 
twenty  who  have  been  completely  pu2zled  or  laughed 
out  of  their  opinions  by  an  adept  in  the  science  of  ca- 
villing, armed  with  the  irresistible  weapons  of  rhodo- 
montade  and  irony. 

Such  was  the  situation  which  this  phcenix  held,  not 
without  a  secret  consciousness  that  he  was  fitted  to 
mount  higher,  whenever  he  could  be  content  to  resign 
the  plumes  oi  wit,  spirit,  and  humour,  for  the  civic 
Wreath  of  the  plodding  man  of  business,  a  character 
which,  though  much  below  his  own,  he  one  day  intend- 
ed to  assume.  The  embarrassments  which  Lord  Nor- 
burv's  irregular  habits  had  introduced  into  this  depart- 
ment, first  suggested  co  the  premier  the  necessity  of 
recalling  Lord  Avondel  into  public  life  ;  and  it  was  at 
this  board  he  was  appointed  to  preside  to  counteract 
the  genius  of  disorder  in  the  shape  of  a  town  wit  turn- 
ed statesman.  The  firmness  and  promptitude  of  the 
noble  eari,  seconded  by  his  high  reputation,  produced  a 
complete  revolution.  Whoever  has  had  tne  honour  of 
sitting  between  two  very  great  men  of  opposite  charac- 
ters, whom  he  was  alike  desirous  of  propitiating,  and 
has  felt  the  difficulty  of  preserving  his  face  in  a  proper 
equilibrium  while  one  great  man  was  very  facetious, 
and  the  other  profoundly  grave,  may  guess  the  mise- 
ries of  the  humbler  coadjutors  of  these  two  noblemen 
while  the  senior  kept  recommencing  attention  to  busi- 
ness, an;1  the  junior  was  persuading  one  of  the  com- 
missioners, who  mighc  have  sat  for  a  frontispiece  to 
Butler's  Sir  Hudibras,  to  get  a  lilac  coat  embroidered 
with  roses  for  the  birth-day.  riut  the  influence  of  J\Io- 
niiis  gradually  decreased.     I  do  not  mean  that  Lord 

VOL.  I.  S 


200  THE  REFUSAL. 

Norbury's  facetious  powers  were  diminished,  but  be- 
sides that  Lord  Avondel  daily  seemed  more  hostile  to 
jesting,  he  dismissed  two  subalterns  for  being  negli- 
gent, and  as  his  influence  was  known  to  gain  ground 
in  a  quarter  where  worth  is  sure  to  be  esteemed,  the 
earl  was  suspected  of  being  prepared  to  bring  out  a 
very  intelligible  comment  on  the  texts  which  assert, 
"  that  there  is  a  time  to  laugh  and  a  time  to  weep,  a 
time  to  keep  silence  and  a  time  to  speak."  It  seemed 
imprudent  to  irritate  the  testy  statesman  beyond  the 
act  of  biting  his  nails  or  dashing  his  pen  on  the  table. 
By  the  secession  of  laughers  at  his  jokes,  Lord  Nor- 
bury  found  himself  either  compelled  to  be  merry  alone, 
which  is  the  dullest  of  all  undertakings,  or  to  transport 
his  mirth  to  a  more  eligible  situation.  A  few  month's 
observation  convinced  him,  that,  as  the  earl  was  not  to 
be  trifled  with,  the  price  of  non-attendance  or  inatten- 
tion would  be  dismission,  and  though  it  was  now  crowd- 
ed with  what  was  disagreeable,  like  Bobadil,  he  found 
the  "  cabin  convenient."  He  was  therefore  compelled 
to  put  on  the  man  of  business,  and  at  least  to  be  pre- 
sent and  silent  while  Lord  Avondel  exercised  his  great 
mind  in  arranging  the  minutiae  of  those  plans  which 
his  wisdom  had  suggested,  with  the  persevering  atten- 
tion of  a  mechanic  fixed  in  his  loom  to  a  daily  task. 

Whatever  road  we  happen  to  choose  to  conduct  us 
to  reputation,  self-attachment  makes  us  feel  peculiarly 
susceptible  of  any  rebuff  or  impediment  in  our  passage, 
even  though  it  should  be  the  means  of  diverting  us 
into  a  more  respectable  path,  or  one  better  adapted  to 
our  talents.  Lord  Norbiiry  was  designed  by  nature 
for  something  better  than  a  rattle,  but  he  cherished  a 
strong  dislike  to  a  man  who  had  compelled  him  to  af- 
fect those  sedate  qualities  which  he  was  ever  ready  to 
sacrifice  to  the  applause  of  the  moment.  Dislike  soon 
grew  into  irreconcilable  enmity,  when  he  perceived  that 
though  he  could  rival  or  even  excel  Lord  Avontkl  in 
pointing  a  repartee,  or  relating  an  anecdote,  he  could 
never  eclipse  him  in  a  debate,  suggest  wiser  expedi- 
ents, or  penetrate  into  the  characters  of  men,  or  the 


THE  REFUSAL.  201 

designs  of  foreign  courts,  with  such  masterly  discern- 
ment. Driven  from  the  seat  where  he  had  been  ac- 
customed to  exercise  sovereign  power,  and  compelled 
to  sit  on  the  stool  of  inferiority  in  another's  kingdom, 
he  was  left  without  hope  of  humbling  the  prepondera- 
ting greatness  which  had  made  him  kick  the  beam. 
An  attempt  to  impugn  Lord  Avondel's  integrity  and 
disinterestedness  would  but  discover  his  own  foulness, 
like  the  crawling  of  a  slug  on  a  tablet  of  alabaster:  and 
he  might  as  well  have  attempted  to  answer  the  Sphinx 
as  to  refute  his  rival's  arguments,  or  render  his  propo- 
sals ridiculous.  Was  Avondel  then  invulnerable  to  the 
shafts  of  malice  ?  or,  as  Norbury  would  have  put  the 
question,  could  not  just  resentment  teach  him  to  feel 
the  pain  of  being  mortified,  and  the  vexation  of  sub- 
mitting to  the  loss  of  some  valued  acquisition,  or  the 
consciousness  of  degradation  ?  How  untainted  must 
be  that  virtue  in  which  revenge,  assisted  by  wit  and 
talent,  could  find  nothing  base  or  contemptible^ 

But  though  invincible  in  his  own  person,  Avondel 
had  a  young  wife,  whom  his  public  duties  compelled 
him  to  trust  chiefly  to  her  own  discretion ;  and  if  Nor- 
bury allowed  him  pre-eminence  on  the  stage  of  busi- 
ness, surely,  in  the  field  of  gallantry,  his  youthful 
competitor  must  be  the  Caesar  who  would  "  come,  see, 
and  conquer."  He  had  met  the  countess  ;  she  inte- 
rested him  just  as  much  as  any  other  woman  of  fashion, 
that  is  to  say,  she  would  serve  to  trifle  with,  and  was 
handsome  enough  to  justify  him  for  pretending  an  at- 
tachment. As  the  wife  of  the  haughty  Earl  of  Avon- 
del  she  became  a  most  desirable  conquest ;  but  then  as 
he  could  not  suppose  this  man  of  loftv  aims  and  high 
desires  had  ever  submitted  to  the  bondage  of  Cupid, 
he  doubted  if  he  would  keenly  feel  the  infidelity  :md 
disgrace  of  the  insignificant  girl  who  shared  his  coro- 
net. Norbury  had  never  been  a  witness  of  connubial 
happiness.  He  fancied  Avondel,  like  his  own  father, 
had  been  content  "  to  wive  it  wealthily ;"  and  as  he 
supposed  Emily  must  have  been  a  reluctant  votress  at 
the  shrine  of  Hymen,  he  thought  the  victory  would  be 


202  THE  REFUSAL. 

too  easy  to  give  eclat  to  the  conqueror.  For  compare 
the  stilt  sententious  solemn  spouse  with  the  airy  graces, 
the  infinite  humour,  the  everflowing  small  talk,  of  the 
gallant,  forty  three  with  twenty  iour,  Count  Osmond, 
Lord  Constable  of  Sicily,  with  the  gay  Lothario,  the 
u  dear  deceiver,"  with  the  best  dressed  beau  in  London, 
the  chiet  of  cicisbeos,  the  phcenix  of  phaeton  drivers, 
the  pattern  of  every  polite  art  and  happy  invention  : — 
Pshaw  !  it  was  too  ridiculous.  She  would  be  fascinated 
at  the  first  glance,  vanquished  by  one  compliment,  and 
ready  to  elope  before  he  could  order  a  chaise  and  four, 
and  bribe  the  Abigail.  He  doubted  whether  diaboli- 
cal revenge  (1  use  the  proper  phrase,  Norbury  called 
it  a  counterplot  on  Avondel)  could  be  a  sufficient  stimu- 
lus to  persuade  him  to  undertake  such  a  stupid  intrigue. 
Emily's  extreme  modesty  and  gentleness  gave  her  such 
a  1  a^hlul  appearance  in  public,  that  he,  like  many 
others,  unjustly  under-rated  her  understanding.  Every 
feeling  of  her  soul  was  spontaneously  imprinted  on  her 
ingenuous  countenance,  and  as  she  oitcn  felt  confused, 
embarrassed,  and  vexed  with  herself,  this  very  pecu- 
liar quality  of  self-condemuation  was  generally  con- 
strued to  imply  unhappiness  in  her  wedded  lot.  Of 
all  intrigues  an  attempt  on  a  discontented  simpleton  is 
the  dullest,  and,  had  she  not  been  Countess  of  Avon- 
del,  she  affected  so  little  eclat,  and  was  so  retired  in 
her  habits,  that  Lord  Norbury  would  never  have 
thought  of  her  a  second  time. 

On  further  enquiry  into  the  history  of  the  married 
pair  whose  comforts  he  meant  to  poison,  he  found  with 
amazement  that  Emily  was  fondly  attached  to  her 
lord's  person  and  an  idolater  of  his  fame.  This  im- 
plied thc»t  she  was  one  of  the  few  women  who  really  had 
what  might  be  termed  some  character.  He  heard  also 
she  had  always  lived  in  the  country,  had  seen  verj  lit- 
tle, and  had  been  romantically  educated.  This  came 
of  course,  and  would  make  her  a  pleasant  relief  to  the 
vapid  sameness  of  town  ladies.  Hut  she  had  rejected 
a  higher  title,  a  younger  man,  and  a  better  fortune  than 
Lord  Avondel's.     True,  but  Glcnvorne  was  a  solemn 


THE  REFUSAL.  203 

fop,  as  dull  as  Avondel,  and  not  so  much  talked  of. 
The  young  lady  had  shewn  she  was  captivated  by  re- 
putation ;  what  attractions  had  the  renown  of  a  gene- 
ral, an  ambassador,  a  statesman,  or  a  governor,  for  a 
young  woman?  at  least  when  compared  with  the  glory 
of  chaining  to  her  car  the  most  invincible  rover,  and 
most  formidable  seducer  who  had  appeared  since  beau- 
ty formed  so  strict  a  league  with  her  sister  chastity, 
that  the  Lovelaces  and  Pollexfens  of  the  times  were 
formed  to  brave  the  gallows  ere  they  could  establish 
their  claim  to  the  honour  of  an  amour  ? 

To  the  no  small  gratification  of  Lady  Caddy,  Lord 
Norbury's  name  was  inscribed  on  her  visiting  list,  and 
the  acquaintance  was  a  mutual  convenience.  For  be- 
sides that  Sir  Joseph  kept  the  best  cook  in  London,  he 
had  no  objection  to  the  world's  loan  and  premium,  and 
her  ladyship  played  very  ill,  and  liked  a  high  stake. 
On  the  other  hand,  though  in  what  related  to  sound 
sense  and  sterling  goodness  she  could  place  Sir  Joseph 
on  a  par  with  Lord  Avondel  without  making  her  audi- 
tors violate  the  rules  of  politeness  further  than  by  a 
smile,  she  could  not  compare  them  as  parallels  in  wit 
and  taste  without  urging  the  risible  muscles  of  her 
friends  beyond  all  power  of  retention.  Here  Lord 
Norbury  became  very  useful,  and  he  might  be  describ- 
ed as  better  bred,  better  dressed,  a  finer  figure,  a  more 
liberal  patron  of  the  fine  arts,  a  more  entertaining  com- 
panion ;  and,  in  fine,  her  friend  Lord  Norbury,  who 
took  his  mutton  with  them  twice  a  week,  and  never 
missed  her  parties,  was  in  all  respects  superior  to  Lord 
Avondel,  who  rarely  left  a  card  at  her  door,  took  little 
pains  to  disguise  his  dislike  of  her,  and  was  just  civil 
to  Sir  Joseph. 

On  that  accommodating  principle  which  induces  pub- 
lic characters  to  be  on  good  terms  with  every  body, 
Emily  complied  with  her  lord's  desire,  and  kept  up  a 
slight  acquaintance  with  her  Devonshire  duenna  ;  and 
the  title  of  countess  sounded  too  well  through  the 
anti-room  on  a  gala  night,  especially  where  there  was  a 
scarcity  of  that  commodity,  to  allow  Lady  Caddy  to 
s2 


204  THE  REFUSAL. 

be  as  angry  with  the  Avondels  as  she  wished.  It  was 
at  her  house,  therefore,  that  Lord  Norbury  met  his  in- 
tended prey  at  a  morning  visit.  Contrary  to  her  usual 
style  of  conversation,  Lady  Caddy  introduced  politics, 
and  expatiated  on  a  public  measure,  which  she  said 
was  generally  agreed  to  be  more  beneficial  than  any 
that  had  been  brought  forward  for  half  a  century.  It 
was  difficult  to  know  what  she  was  about,  till  she  turned 
to  Lord  Norbury  and  observed,  that  the  world  would 
owe  this  blessing  to  his  patriotism.  "  The  world, 
madam,"  answered  he,  "bestows  on  me  a  degree  of 
fame  which  I  do  not  deserve,  for  I  assure  you,  upon 
my  honour,  the  bill  you  so  justly  commended  originat- 
ed with  Lord  Avondel." 

Emily,  who  writh  the  depressed  composure  of  exalted 
meekness  had  dropped  her  pensive  head  during  this 
ebullition  of  ill-will,  which  she  knew  was  pointed  at 
her  lord,  suddenly  felt  her  face  glow  with  delight.  She 
darted  a  look  of  inexpressible  satisfaction  and  grati- 
tude at  Lord  Norbury.  She  roused  from  what  might 
be  termed  a  stupor,  but  what  really  was  the  lively  emo- 
tion of  sensibility,  conscious  of  injury,  yet  too  gentle 
to  contend,  and  viewing  the  champion  of  her  lord's 
honour  with  more  than  common  approbation,  she  en- 
tered into  a  spirited  conversation  with  the  young  lord  ; 
who,  while  handing  her  to  her  carriage,  observed,  that 
the  warmth  of  her  connubial  attachment  at  once  adorn- 
ed and  ennobled  her  beauty.  "  I  detest  invidious  peo- 
ple," said  she,  "  as  much  as  I  honour  candour ;"  and 
then  in  the  gaiety  and  sincerity  of  her  heart,  kissed 
her  hand,  bowed  to  Norbury,  and  drove  home  to  tell 
her  lord  how  generously  he  had  behaved. 

Lord  AvondePs  love  of  praise  rendered  the  cup  of 
flattery  always  grateful  provided  the  ingredients  were 
well  mixed,  and  offered  with  an  air  of  gracefulness. 
*'  I  think,"  said  he,  "  I  have  been  unjust  to  this  young 
man;  I  fancied  him  vain  and  frivolous,  and  thought 
he  regarded  me  with  peculiar  animosity." 

"  He  did  you  noble  justice,"  replied  Emily.  "  But, 
my  dearest  lord,  you  always  leave  me  to  hear  of  your 


THE  REFUSAL.  205 

renown  from  strangers.  Why  did  not  you  tell  me  that 
your  sleepless  nights  and  thoughtful  days  were  employ- 
ed in  perfecting  this  plan  ?  I  should  not  then  have  been 
terrified,  sometimes  with  thinking  I  had  offended  you, 
at  others  with  fearing  you  were  indisposed." 

"  I  would  cure  you  of  your  solicitude  in  this  respect, 
Emily,  by  giving  you  opportunities  of  discovering  its 
unreasonableness.  Amid  a  hundred  causes  which  may 
account  for  my  being  serious  or  absent,  will  you  never 
allow  yourself  to  fix  on  any  that  may  neither  impeach 
my  affection  for  you  nor  wound  your  own  feelings  ?  But 
with  respect  to  Norbury,  he  has  done  me  more  than 
justice,  for  he  really  threw  out  the  original  idea  on 
which  I  laboured  till  I  gave  it  consistency  and  practi- 
cability ;  he  is  therefore  justly  entitled  to  share  the  re- 
putation." 

"  He  concealed  all  this,"  replied  the  countess,  "  and 
spoke  of  you  with  such  warmth  of  esteem  that  I  quite 
fell  in  love  with  him." 

"  'Tis  a  pity  he  is  so  dissipated,"  resumed  the  earl ; 
"  he  certainly  has  talents  and  penetration,  and  I  now 
hope  principle.  I  have  treated  him  too  cavalierly,  pos- 
sibly a  little  regular  society  might  correct  his  morals." 

The  next  time  they  met  at  the  office,  Lord  Avondel 
returned  Lord  Norbury's  bow  with  a  less  formal  air. 
The  members  were  not  assembled :  "  We  punctual 
men,"  said  the  earl,  "  may  derive  an  advantage  from 
our  early  hours,  since  it  will  allow  us  an  opportunity 
of  cultivating  more  than  an  official  acquaintance." 

u  So,"  thought  Norbury,  "  the  bait  has  taken. 
Charming  little  soul !  I  see  she  can  move  this  mighty 
machine  at  pleasure,  and  the  destined  cornuto  is  as 
tractable  as  I  could  wish."  He  then  protested  he  was 
the  worst  in  the  world  at  grave  speeches,  or  he  should 
say  it  was  his  highest  ambition  to  possess  the  private 
as  well  as  the  political  friendship  of  the  Earl  of 
Avondel. 

"  We  have  lost  too  much  time,"  said  that  nobleman, 
"  to  waste  any  more  in  mere  formality  ;  you  must  dine 
with  me  to-day." 


206 


THE  REFUSAL. 


"  I  have  but  one  objection,  my  lord,  my  heart  is 
very  vulnerable,  and  the  charms  of  your  countess'' — 

"  Are  defended  by  my  entire  confidence,  and  her 
unswerving  discretion,"  returned  the  earl  with  an  air 
of  gravity. 

"  I  am  not  such  a  determined  coxcomb,"  answered 
Norbury,  u  as  to  attempt  vanquishing  such  invincible 
guardians.  My  lord,  I'll  put  a  bandage  on  my  eyes 
and  wait  upon  you*" 

"  Your  lordship,  I  presume,  has  been  too  much  ac- 
customed to  the  beams  of  beauty  to  be  dazzled  by  its 
brightness.  I  therefore  conceive  the  precaution  you 
propose  unnecessary,  unless  when  it  is  required  by  the 
great  susceptibility  of  the  lady,  or  the  jealous  irritabi- 
lity of  the  husband." 

The  man  of  intrigue  was  inclined  to  laugh  at  the 
proud  confidence  this  speech  manifested,  but  recollect- 
ing that  conciliation  was  his  cue,  he  answered,  that 
waving  those  reasons  still  the  bandage  would  be  neces- 
sary, as  it  would  prevent  him  from  seeing  his  own  in- 
feriority, "  which,"  said  he,  "  is  the  only  inconveni- 
ence people  can  suffer  in  the  company  of  the  earl  of 
Avondel." 

The  commissioners  now  entering  prevented  further 
conversation.  "  'Tis  a  pity,"  thought  the  president,  as 
he  walked  to  the  chair,  "  this  young  man  should  not 
allow  himself  leisure  to  be  consistent  and  persevering. 
Certainly  he  is  a  very  agreeable  companion." 


[   207  ] 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


I  am  as  true  as  truth's  simplicity, 
And  simpler  than  the  infancy  of  truth. 

Akenside. 

"  AGAIN"  in  the  penitentials,  Emily,"  said  the  earl 
to  his  j'oung  countess  on  his  return  to  Berkley-square. 
"  Come,  relieve  yourself  by  confession,  and  receive 
absolution." 

"  I  shall  exhaust  your  patience  by  my  foily,"  said 
she  ;  "  nay  'tis  not  mere  folly,  I  have  been  quite  cul- 
pable." 

"  Only  in  your  own  estimation.  I  shall  indeed  be 
surprized  if  I  discover  anv  criminal  err  ;rs." 

"  I  know  not  by  what  other  name  to  call  my  thought- 
lessness." 

"■Suppose  we  call  it  thinking  too  much,  only  not  in 
the  right  place  ?" 

"  Well,  i  will  admit  your  liberal  definition.  I  thought 
so  much  of  Lord  Norbury's  magnanimity  to  you  that 
this  morning,  hearing  him  spoken  of  in  a  comtemptu- 
ous.  manner,  I  vindicated  him  with  all  my  power,  and 
even  asserted  that  the  bill  which  has  gained  so  much 
eclat  was  rather  his  measure  than  yours,  though  he 
endeavoured  to  give  you  the  entire  credit.  I  saw 
Lady  Caustic  bridle,  and  the  Duch  jss  of  Stingwell 
said,  "very  candid  indeed,"  with  such  a  significant 
smile,  that  I  knew  I  was  wrong.  The  moment  they 
were  gone,  my  :xcellent  friend  Lady  Glenvorne  told 
me,  that  Norbury  is  a  notorious  libertine,  one  who 
boasts  of  his  vices.  O,  my  Led,  I  shall  sink  with 
contusion ;  I  have  been  vindicating  a  man  ot  infa- 
mous character." 
.     "Well,  Emily?" 


208  TIIE  REFUSAL. 

"  To  think  what  suspicions  I  have  excited,  I  have 
committed  myself  to  the  most  dangerous  set  in  Lon- 
don." 

"  The  story  is  but  half  completed,  I  must  furnish 
the  catastrophe  ;  for,  like  a  most  accommodating  good 
man,  I  have  invited  this  dangerous  gallant  to  dinner. 
Will  not  these  dragons  ol  virtue  forget  your  indiscre- 
tion in  my  imprudent  negligence  ?" 

"Surely,"  replied  Emily,  turning  still  paler,  and 
trembling  with  horror,  "  you  have  not  commenced  an 
acquaintance  with  Lord  Norburv  ?" 

"  Indeed,  I  have,  but  not  upon  your  account.  We 
meet  too  often  to  be  neutrals,  the  question  is,  shall  we 
be  enemies  or  friends  ?" 

"  I  can  never  feel  at  ease  in  the  company  of  a  man 
of  his  character.  I  know  he  will  misconstrue  all  my 
words  and  looks,  and  I  detest  a  vicious  person  too 
much  even  to  assume  towards  him,  civility." 

"It  is  painful,"  said  Lord  Avondel,  "to  correct 
such  an  ingenuous  temper,  yet,  my  Emily,  I  .must  tell 
you,  common  civility  is- a  tribute  which  all  who  have 
not  personally  offended  you  may  demand.  Neither 
will  an  outrageous  vindication  of  your  sex's  wrongs  be 
half  so  mortifving  to  a  bold  r-.nd  boasifai  iibertine,  as 
the  calm  indifference,  the  unimpassioned  ease,  of 
conscious  virtue,  too  confident  of  its  own  strength  to 
provoke  hostility,  and  too  insensible  of  the  boastful  at- 
tractions of  a  coxcomb  to  feed  his  vanity  by  treating 
him  as  a  dangerous  being.  As  for  Lord  Norbury,  he 
dares  not  meditate  your  dishonour.  Let  him  not  sus- 
spect  that  you  are  so  indelicate  as  to  believe  he  thinks 
you  vulnerable." 

Emily  gratefully  assured  her  husband  that  he  was 
born  to  be  her  counsellor,  her  friend,  and  her  protector. 

The  earl  answered,  "  I  need  not  tell  you  that  your 
reputation  is  dearer  to  me  than  my  life.  Bat  though 
the  laws  of  honour  require  our  sex  to  be  the  avengers 
of  your  wrongs,  I  have  ever  thought  women  the  best 
guardians  of  their  own  honour,  and  I  have   always 


THE  REFUSALr.  209 

imost  admired  that  discretion  which  rather  avoids  diffi- 
culties than  vanquishes  presumption.  "  He  comes  too 
near  who  comes  to  be  denied,"  is  an  invaluable  adage. 
I  have  seen  viragos  in  delicacy  fall  an  easy  prey,  but 
I  never  yet  knew  a  woman  ensnared  whose  chastity,  as 
well  as  her  manners,  was  '  not  obvious,  not  obtrusive, 
but  retired.'  " 

Lord  Avondel  sighed  as  he  uttered  these  remarks. 
He  recollected  the  incident  which  first  led  him  to  ob- 
serve those  superior  graces  of  mind  and  mien  that  had 
so  firmly  engraved  the  charms  of  Selina  Delamore  on 
his  heart.  He  saw  her  at  a  masquerade  exposed  to 
those  freedoms  which  the  licence  of  the  place  seemed 
to  justify,  buc  which  her  extreme  beauty  and  unpro- 
tected dependent  situation  rendered  peculiarly  offen- 
sive. His  sword  was  ready  to  start  from  its  scabbard 
to  avenge  any  insult  she  might  endure,  but  with  quie£ 
dignity  she  repelled  insolence,  and  awed  the  most  li- 
centious, even  without  the  intervention  of  his  inter- 
dicting frown.  He"  remembered,  too,  that  never  from 
that  hour  did  she  expose  herself  to  be  again  offended 
by  him  who  had  so  far  thrown  off  the  gentleman  as  to 
suppose  a  beautiful  and  noble  child  of  poverty  might 
be  insulted  with  impunity.  A  formal  courtesy,  a  cold 
monosyllable,  or  a  distant  smile,  was  all  that  even  an 
acknowledgement  of  his  fault  could  obtain.  "  In  such 
a  situation,"  thought  Lord  Avondel,  "Emily's  tears 
and  terrors  would  have  drawn  me  into  a  dispute.  The 
business  would  have  got  wind,  and  the  delicacy  of  fe- 
male fame  always  suffers  by  discussion.  Emily  would 
have  exposed  hserelf,  risked  her  lover's  life,  and  con- 
firmed the  coxcomb  in  h.s  impertinence  by  giving  him 
notoriety.  Selina  Delamore, — but  why  do  I  talk  of 
Selina  Delamore  i  she  has  renounced  me  and  bidden 
me  think  of  the  amiable  affectionate  creature  who  lives 
but  for  me." 

Lord  Norbury  was  determined  to  mnke  his  debut 
in  stvle,  and  accordingly  appeared  in  Berklev-square 
dressed  for  conquest.  He  resolved  that  his  person, 
manner,    and  conversation,  should  compel   Emily  to 


210  THE  REFUSAL. 

regret  her  precipitate  and  eccentric  choice.  He  did 
not  come  attired  like  our  present  Adonises,  in  a  jock- 
ey's livery,  a  coachman's  iong  coat,  or  /he  round  frock 
and  Belcher  handkerchief,  of  ..  pugilist.  Nor  did  he 
talk  oi  exercises  which  violate  law  and  outrage  hu- 
maniiy,  or  introduce  the  language  and  behaviour  of 
the  stable  to  the  festal  board  oi  an  hereditary  legit. a- 
tor  of  the  British  empire.  Neither  did  he  ruth  u,to 
the  room  during  the  removal  of  the  first  course, 
thrust  his  chair  between  two  women  of  fashion,  give 
a  holt  bow  to  the  lady  hostess,  violate  the  ceconon.,  of 
the  table,  make  the  cook  swear  and  the  butler  per- 
spire, while  the  more  civil  part  oi  the  company  won- 
dered at  his  voracious  appetite,  and  the  perfect  non- 
chalance with  which  he  vowed  he  was  notorious  for 
being  an  hour  beyond  his  time,  and  had  won  a  wager 
bv  never  being  known  to  see  fish  except  at  his  own  ta- 
ble. 

Doubtless,  as  a  "  divine  fellow,"  Norbury  would 
have  done  all  this,  had  coarse  freedom  at  that  period 
been  voted  tonish,  and  guests  not  being  required  to  oe 
well-bred  and  to  wea*  the  exterior  of  gentlemen. 
Lord  Norbury,  therefore,  had  to  exhibit  his  gra(  ,1 
boM  s  in  the  drawing  room;  he  was  expected  to  h  .  d 
Lady  Avondel  to  her  seat,  to  assist  her  in  perform  g 
the  honours  of  hospitality,  to  appear  delighted  ■  ith 
the  entertainment,  and  to  be  respectful  to  the  giver 
and  the  guests.  This  last  rule  could  never  b<  viol  ited 
with  impunity,  unless  when  some  humble  retainer  or 
starved  genius,  was  permitted  to  wield  his  knive  and 
fork  m  silence,  and  being  overlooked  by  my  lord  and 
my  lad)',  was  allowably  neglected  by  the  company. 
Such  lorlorn  beings  never  displayed  their  piteous  i  es 
at  Lord  Avondel's  b  nquets.  I  do  not  mean  to  say 
thev  were  interdict!  d,  bm  when  admitted  beneath  his 
truly  hospitable  roof,  they  appeared  in  such  a  style 
that  the  most  accurate  observer  oJ  high  life  could  not 
discover  them  either  b)  the  negligence  oi  the  earl  and 
countess,  the  insolence  of  the   servants,  or  their  own 


THE  REFUSAL.  211 

solicitude  to  pay  their  commons  with  acquiescence  and 
flattery. 

Behold,  then,  the  gay  and  gallant  Norbury  reflect- 
ing splendor  from  the  rich  silver  embroidery  on  his 
waist-coat,  and,  like  a  blooming  orange  tree,  diffusing 
fragrance  with  every  motion  of  his  well-powdered 
head  !  Hear  him  criticise  fiddlers  and  opera  dancers, 
delineate  the  sons  and  daughters  of  Thespis,  explain 
the  initials  in  the  scandalous  magazine,  and  detail  the 
particulars  of  the  last  crash  at  the  Savoir  vivre ;  above 
all,  hear  him  satirize  Lady  Overdone's  city  rout,  and 
cut  up  Mrs.  Phantom's  pines  at  her  gala  supper,  a 
privilege  denied  to  her  guests.  "  Wax,  upon  my  re- 
putation," said  he,  "  exhibited  in  a  tall  Epargne  be- 
yond the  reach  of  the  king  of  Brobdingnag.  Besides, 
there  were  some  dozens  of  fossil  peaches,  an  immense 
quantity  of  potted  saw  dust,  painted  entrements,  and 
a  stupendous  plateau  furnished  from  her  daughter's 
baby-house.  To  complete  the  farce,  there  was  a 
starved  poet  whetting  our  hunger  by  reciting  an  ode 
descriptive  of  a  plentiful  repast,  and  Dr.  Dry  bones 
moving  our  spleen  by  enlarging  on  the  physical  ad- 
vantages of  abstinence  over  a  goblet  of  Seltzer  water. 
The  rascal  was  bribed,  for  Phantom  started  from  the 
supper  table,  hoped  we  were  all  sufficiently  refreshed, 
and  marched  us  back  to  the  ball  room  shivering  and 
exhausted  like  the  famished  family  of  Ugolina,  or 
Holbein's  dance  of  death." 

"  O  horrid,"  exclaimed  an  expectant  young  beautv, 
who  had  long  thought  Norbury  a  divine  title.  "  But 
do  tell  us  more  about  the  Overdones  .?" 

"  O,  there  I  was  crammed  and  stuffed  to  suffoca- 
tion. '  Do  eat  some  more  chickens  and  asparagus, 
they  are  the  first  I  have  seen  this  year.  Take  another 
piece  of  blanc  mange,  I  made  it  myself,  and  I  know 
it  is  good.  You  cannot  get  such  cream  any  were  as 
mine  is  ;  I  had  it  from  my  own  dairy  at  Ka^kney.' 
*  No,  nor  such  rack  punch  neither,'  adds  the  lull-form- 
ed India  director,  '  and  the  ingredients  come  from  my 

VOL.  I.  T 


212  THE  REFUSAL. 

own  farms   too,  across  the  great  herring  pond,  haw, 
haw,  haw !" 

"  Dreadful,"  again  ejaculated  Miss  Blandish.  "  My 
dear  Lady  Avondel,  did  you  ever  hear  any  thing  so 
monstrously  shocking." 

"  I  beg  pardon,"  said  Emily,  turning  round  at  this 
appeal,  "  I  really  have  been  talking  with  Mr.  Classic. 
I  fear  I  have  lost  something  important.  Would  it  be 
very  unreasonable  to  ask  Lord  Norbury  to  repeat  his 
remarks  ?" 

"  She  tops  her  part,"  thought  Lord  Avondel. 
"  That  was  spoken  in  the  very  spirit  of  Selina."  By 
way  of  encouraging  the  crest-fallen  Norbury,  he  ask- 
ed his  assistance  to  detail  what  passed  in  the  house  on 
the  third  reading  of  his  bill,  immediately  after  the  op- 
position made  a  motion  of  adjournment. 

"  Don't,"  exclaimed  Lord  Norbury,  '*  impose  two 
Herculean  labours  upon  me  at  once.  The  ladies  have 
just  required  me  to  repeat  all  I  have  said  to  entertain 
them  while  I  fancied  they  did  me  the  honour  of  at- 
tending to  me." 

"  We  have  been  more  just  to  your  merits  at  this 
end  of  the  table,  my  lord,"  said  Avondel,  "  forneither 
of  us  has  wTanted  one  of  Gulliver's  flappers  while  your 
lordship's  legislative  talents  were  discussed." 

"  O,  you  wicked  man,"  said  Miss  Blandish  ;  "  I 
declare,  Lord  Avondel,  you  quite  deserve  scolding; 
you  have  deserted  us,  and  now  you  want  to  nif.ke  Nor- 
bury as  wise  and  as  formidable  as  yourself.  I  do  so 
hate  politics." 

"  Be  merciful,  dear  Miss  Blandish,  I  merely  wished 
to  display  all  Lord  Norbury's  excellencies,  that  you 
might  not  suppose  he  had  taken  refuge  among  you  be- 
cause he  was  banished  from  us.  You  now  see  he  has 
it  in  his  power  to  make  an  honourable  retreat  to  those 
who  will  always  think  him  worthy  their  attention." 

"  I  mean,"  said  Norbury,  "  to  apply  to  you,  Lord 
Avondel,  for  as  you  reign  alike  in  politics  and  wit  you 
can  tell  me  which  is  the  pleasantest  soil  to  live  in." 


THE  REFUSAL.  213 

A  glowing  smile  lighted  up  the  countenance  of  Emi- 
ly, while,  lifting  the  glass  to  her  rosy  lips,  she  bowed 
to  Lord  Norbury,  and  with  bewitching  sweetness  wish- 
ed he  might  be  happy  and  honoured  in  both. 

"  So,"  thought  the  gay  Lothario  of  the  day,  "  what 
with  the  husband's  politeness,  and  the  wife's  impene- 
trability, I  shall  be  metamorphosed  into  a  good  quiet 
creature,  and  I  presume  shall  be  invited  to  stand  god- 
father, be  admitted  to  enliven  a  conjugal  tete-a-tete,  as 
a  safe  witness  of  my  lord's  hypochondriacs,  or  my  la- 
dy's head-aches !  Pretty  piece  of  apathy  !  Can  nothing 
light  up  thy  frigid  features  but  the  unction  of  flattery 
poured  on  the  head  of  thine  own  good  man?  Pie,  wor- 
thy soul,  finds  the  balsamic  oil  supple  his  stiff  joints 
most  delightfully.  Every  man  has  his  price,  and, 
thank  my  stars,  Avondel,  I  have  discovered  yours." 

The  next  time  Lord  Norbury  saw  the  countess  was 
at  the  theatre.  He  opened  the  box-door,  and  asked  if 
she  would  admit  him  to  join  her  party  ?  "  Certainly," 
said  Emily,  rising  with  grave  civility:  "  Lady  Glen- 
vorne,  will  you  have  the  goodness  to  admit  Lord  Nor- 
bury between  us  ?" 

"  The  princess  of  decorum  and  her  duenna,"  said 
Norbury  to  himself,  as  he  stepped  over  the  benches. 
"  I  must  stand  a  little  ridicule  for  this.  Hah !  Jack 
Outline,  with  his  crayons,  in  the  pit !  Success  to  thy 
labours,  high-priest  of  slander ;  my  visage  and  the  fair 
countess's  caricatured,  but  sufficiently  like  to  throw  a 
jest  on  the  originals  is  all  the  triumph  I  desire,  to  pu- 
nish the  presumptuous  security  of  Avondel." 

"  Peace  to  this  blessed  retreat,"  said  Norburv  to 
Emily,  "  how  inestimable  are  the  charms  of  mild  re- 
serve, and  complacent  delicacy.  I  have  been  hunted 
round  the  house  by  various  bevies  of  loud  talkers  and 
invincible  gigglers.  Your  ladyship  can  scarcely  sup- 
pose the  misery  and  persecution  from  which  I  have 
fled." 

The  countess  quietly  answered,  ;t  Indeed  !  we  have 
been  very  happy." 


214  THE  REFUSAL. 

"  And  Avondel  not  here  !  Surely  it  rarely  happens 
that  you  are  very  happy  in  his  absence  !" 

"  My  Lord,"  returned  Emily,  who  always  had 
somewhat  of  grandeur  in  her  look  and  manner  when 
she  spoke  of  her  husband,  "  expected  your  assistance 
this  evening  in  the  debate.  His  whole  heart  is  in  the 
measure  which  is  coming  on,  and  he  fears  he  shall 
need  the  support  of  all  his  friends." 

"  Numbers,  madam,  will  flock  to  his  standard  ;  but 
I  have  determined  to  shew  my  friendship  for  the  noble 
Avondel  by  protecting  that  attractive  loveliness,  which 
the  severe  impositions  of  public  duties  compel  him  to 
hazard  abroad  without  a  guardian." 

"  I  must  not,"  returned  Emily,  "  allow  myself  to 
be  considered  as  an  impediment  to  my  lord's  important 
designs.  We  are  in  no  want  of  a  protector,  are  we 
Lady  Gienvorne  ?" 

"  I  cannot,"  replied  Norbury,  "  submit  this  ques- 
tion to  a  female  judge,  however  respectable.  My  lady 
marchioness  cannot  have  penetrated  into  the  secrets  of 
libertinism,  nor  can  she  judge  what  nefarious  designs 
t!  e  unprincipled  will  entertain,  to  which,  unhappily, 
the  licence  oi  the  age  gives  an  alarming  sanction." 

"  Come,  Lord  Norbury,"  returned  Lady  Gien- 
vorne, "  we  must  not  allow  you  to  turn  king's  evi- 
dence, or  if  you  will  criminate  your  fraternity,  we 
must  take  you  before  a  magistrate,  and  have  your  de- 
position made  out  in  form,  and  published  for  the  be- 
nefit of  all  tender-hearted  fair  ones.  You  will  unsay 
all  you  confess  to  us  without  this  precaution." 

The  voung  nobleman,  who  fancied  he  had  adopted 
the  precise  expressions  which  would  have  won  the 
good  opinion  of  such  strict  ladies,  felt  so  repulsed  by 
this  sarcasm,  that  he  could  only  suppress  an  imprecation 
against  old  women,  and  assure  Lady  Gienvorne  that 
the  world  had  formed  a  most  erroneous  judgment  of 
his  real  character. 

"  The  play  was  "  the  School  for  Scandal,"  then  re- 
cent from  the  pen  of  genius,  and  possessing  the  advan- 
tage of  having  its  poignant  humour  and  forcible  deli- 


THE  REFUSAL.  2I5 

neation  of  character  elucidated  by  a  constellation  of 
dramatic  talent,  happily  adapted  to  its  respective  parts. 
As  in  those  days  mere  bustle  and  practical  jokes  were 
not  admitted  as  substitutes  for  incident  and  wit,  actors 
were  not  influenced  by  the  perverted  ambition  of  sa- 
crificing nature  and   their  author  to  stage  trick  and 
grimace.     Emily,  herself  a  child  of  nature,  entered 
into  the  representation  with  such  fixed  attention,  that 
she  almost  forgot  she  was  sitting  in  public  with  one  of 
the  most  dissipated  men  of  the  age  at  her  elbow  ;  and 
Norbury  was  forced,  in  his  own  language,  to  do  pen- 
ance, by  poring  over  the  volume  of  antiquitv  to  avoid 
the  mortification  of  addressing  his  conversation  to  the 
flaxen  locks  which  fell  redundantly  over  the  shoulders 
of  the  countess,  while  her  averted  face  was  turned  to 
the  stage.     Piqued  by  her  disregard,  he  at  length  ask- 
ed her.  if  the  gW~  ~'  Q;.  Eeter  had  so  rivetted  her 
attention  i 

"  Surely,"  said  she,  with  an  ingenuous  air,  "  there 
is  much  respectability  in  his  character." 

"  And  yet,"  returned  Norbury,  in  a  soft  despond- 
ing accent,  "  when  we  contemplate  the  youth,  the 
beauty,  and  the  sprightly  ease,  of  his  blooming  con- 
sort, must  we  not  say,  what  a  sacrifice  ?" 

"  I  admit,"  said  Lady  Glenvorne,  "  youth  is  the 
quality  which  men  most  admire  in  our  sex,  and  in 
compliment  to  your  taste  we  are  successively  content 
to  slide  into  the  character  of  the  time  past  at  an  early 
period,  and  to  lie  upon  the  shelf  like  a  last  year's 
Ephemeris  ;  but  do  not  so  much  undervalue  your  own 
superior  sex  as  to  suppose  your  durable  virtues  fade 
like  our  roses.  The  oak,  you  know,  is  perfected  by 
centuries,  but  a  few  years  destroys  the  beauty  of  the 
woodbine  which  twines  around  it." 

U  Your  ladyship,"  answered  Norbury,  "  deserves 
to  be  panegyrized  by  every  club  of  odd  fellows  in  the 
kingdom  ;  but  for  us  unhappy  Ganymedes,  whom  you 
deprive  of  what  we  thought  our  exclusive  right,  the 
young  and  the  fair,  on  the  principle  of  congeniality, 
we  have  only  to  wait  till  time  has  proved  our  virtues 
t  2 


216  THE  REFUSAL. 

to  be  durable,  or  else  make  an  excursion  to  Bath  in 
despair,  and  select  from  its  virgin  coteries  one  of  the 
last  aspiring  Ursulas  for  our  future  partner." 

"  Are  the  times  become  so  rigid,"  inquired  the  mar- 
chioness, "  that  you  men  of  wit  and  gallantry  can  find 
no  expedient  but  becoming  despairing  bachelors,  or 
husbands  of  old  maids  ?  What,  does  your  lordship 
think  of  commencing  cicisbeo,  on  the  Italian  plan,  and 
persuading  young  wives  that  there  is  nothing  obligato- 
ry in  a  vow  given  to  an  odd  fellow  ?" 

"  I  should  think,"  said  Lord  Norbury,  "  that  it  was 
the  most  hopeless  of  all  undertakings  ;"  his  eyes  met 
Emily  at  that  instant,  and  with  the  airy  confidence  of 
a  fashionable  effrontery,  he  asked  her  to  correct  him 
if  he  was  mistaken. 

The  countess  declared  herself  so   much  engrossed 

\ta  >->lr»t.    ^i--- —  — *  nwt  iiit  tuiiU  or>  wliirH   her 

gment  was  required. 

.    "  It  is  connected  with  the  plot,"  said  his  lordship; 

Lady  G  envorne  inquires,  whether  the  denouement 

would  not  have  been  different  had   the  author  given 

Lady  Teazle  a  spirited,    engaging  lover,    instead   of 

that  sentimental  drone  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Emily,  «  for  the  plot  does  not  turn 
upon  the  character  of  Joseph  Surface,  but  on  Lady 
leazles,  whom  he  describes  as  credulous,  volatile, 
and  dissipated,  but  not  positively  infamous.  I  grant 
her  situation  is  very  critical.  She  is  not  onlv  vounRt 
beautiful,  and  exposed  to  adulation,  but  she  seems 
virtuous  rather  from  habit  than  reflection  ;  and,  till 
towards  the  conlusion  of  the  play,  she  wants  that  in- 
vincible support,  affection  for  her  husband,  founded 
on  ajust  estimation  of  his  worth.  You  smile,  Lady 
Glenvorne,  but  indeed  this  defence  is  invulnerable.— 
A  thousand  admirers,  with  differ.  Ht  attractions  and 
pretensions,  would   not  seduce  an  whose  hearf 

with  due  forethought  and  ard,  accompanies 

her  man  i:  ge  v<    .  s.?"  l 

larchioaess,   "  it  was 
pour  sentiments.     Pra 


THE  REFUSAL.  217" 

u  But  may  not  this  rich  treasure  of  love  be  wasted 
by  an  unthrifty  possessor  ?"  inquired  Norbury. — 
"  Suppose  the  husband  turns  morose,  suspicious,  un- 
kind, alters  his  behaviour,  renounces  his  good  quali- 
ties— is  the  lover's  case  then  so  desperate,  or  is  the 
lady  very  culpable  if  she  seeks  consolation  in  a  sym- 
pathising friend  ?" 

"  This  case,"  said  Emily,  "  is  very  hypothetical 

An  entire  change  of  character,  a  dereliction  of  prin- 
ciple) a  renunciation  of  habitual  virtues,  are  surely 
very  rare.  As  for  venial  errors,  or  transient  wayward- 
ness, true  affection  will  either  not  perceive  such  faults, 
or  they  will  seem  as  spots  in  the  sun.  Or,  perhaps, 
love  may  exert  its  magic,  and  convert  defects  into 
excellencies.  At  all  events,  a  fond  and  faithful  wife 
will  never  ask  for  pity  at  her  husband's  expense,  nor 
solicit  advice  which  may  make  him  wretched  and  con- 
temptible. I  grant  Lady  Teazle  does  this,  but  though 
not  abandoned,  she  is  very  far  from  correct.  Hers 
was  a  match  of  convenience  ;  the  unweighed  engage- 
ment of  a  flippant  girl,  tired  of  restraint,  and  panting 
for  expensive  pleasures.  In  this  point  of  view,  her 
visit  to  Joseph  Surface,  and  her  complaints  of  ill 
usage,  argue  no  greater  guilt  than  petulence  and  indis- 
cretion ;  and  I  admire  the  moral  art  of  the  poet  in 
reclaiming  her,  by  making  her  an  undesigned  witness 
of  her  hus'>  .nd;s  generous  affection  and  integrity.— 
Honour  and  gratitude  are  thus  made  active  principles, 
instead  of  love  ;  and  indeed,  Lord  Norbury,  I  should 
look  with  horror  on  a  lady  Teazle  in  real  life,  who, 
after  she  had  thus  been  roused  to  a  sense  of  duty, 
aftervvards  listened  to  the  blandishments  of  a  lover, 
though  every  possible  attraction  were  combined  in  his 
character. 

Lord  Norbury  was  silent.  The  malicious  marchi- 
oness i-xpr^ssecl  her  fear  that  he  was  quite  weary  of 
such  a  moral  performance.  He  started,  endeavoured 
to  recollect  himself,  srowed  he  had  never  passed  two 
hours  more  peasantry  ;  that  he  was  edified  and  im- 
proved, and  had  learnt  more  than  from  ten  volumes  of 


218  THE  REFUSAL. 

divinity.  He  then  intreated  Lady  Avondel  to  allow 
him  to  escort  her  to  Berkley-square,  that  he  might 
enjoy  the  protracted  advantage  of  her  verv  just  cri- 
tique. Without  waiting  for  her  reply,  Lady  Glen- 
vorne  answered,  that  the  countess  was  engaged  to  be 
her  guest  that  evening. 

"  Had  I  power  to  command  you,"  said  Emily,  "  I 
would  conjure  you  to  hasten  and  support  my  lord. — 
He  has  been  of  late  entirely  engrossed  with  business, 
and  was  extremely  fatigued  when  he  went  to  the  house, 
expecting  a  long  debate.  You  may  assist  him,  at  least 
you  will  be  in  time  for  the  division." 

"  What  reward  am  I  to  expect  from  obedience  ?" 
inquired  the  young  lord,  as  he  conducted  the  ladies  to 
th'eir  carriage.  The  marchioness  bowed  with  ironical 
gravity,  and  answered,  "  a  second  dissertion  on  Lady 
Teazle." 

"  Malicious  crone,"  muttered  Norbury,  as  he  drew 
back  among  the  link-boys  ;  "  'tis  misery  enough  to  be 
the  fool  of  ■  a  young  woman,  but  to  be  the  jest  of  an 
old  one  is  worse  than  the  tortures  of  Mezentius." 

The  lively  marchioness  now  told  her  young  friend, 
that  she  presumed  their  adventure  that  evening  had 
given  pain  to  many  hearts  ;  and  on  Emily's  inquiring 
for  what  reason,  she  protested  she  would  punish  her 
indifference  by  claiming  the  conquest  of  the  dear  Ado- 
nis herself.  "  Are  you  unconscious,"  said  she,  "  that 
you  fixed  the  gay  and  fascinating  Norbury  the  whole 
evening?" 

"  'Twas  accident,"  returned  the  countess,  "  or, 
perhaps,  respect  to  my  Lord.  His  presumption 
never  could  be  so  blind  as  to  suppose,  even  if  I 
were  the  basest  of  women,  that  he  could  ever  rival 
the  Earl  of  Avondel.  O  heavens,  what  a  falling  off 
would  there  be,  setting  honour  and  conscience  aside. 
This  man  of  wit  is  very  frivolous,  dear  Lady  Glen* 
vorne.  He  and  my  lord  are  beings  of  a  very  different 
order." 

"  Most  undoubtedly  they  are  ;  yet,  for  one  woman 
who  has  sufficient  elevation  of  mind  to  value  the  sted- 


THE  REFUSAL.  219 

fast  regard  of  a  man  of  sense  and  honour,  hundreds 
sigh  for  the  whisper  of  a  coxcomb,  who  conceives  he 
distinguishes  them  by  a  momentary  attention  ;  and  this 
induces  me  to  repeat  my  observation,  that  you  will 
excite  much  envious  observation  by  your  flirtation  this 
evening." 

"  Flirtation !  Lady  Glenvorne,  you  alarm  me.  Yet, 
now  I  recollect,  I  was  too  familiar.  I  rested  my  fan 
on  his  shoulder  in  the  heat  of  my  argument  ;  I  talked 
also  much  too  freely.  He  had  the  audacity  to  press 
my  hand  as  he  led  me  out.  The  known  licence  of 
his  character  will  take  advantage  of  my  inconsidera- 
tion." 

<c  Dear  susceptible  Emily,"  said  Lady  Glenvorne, 
"  your  behaviour  this  evening  was  as  it  always  has 
been  when  I  have  witnessed  it,  exactly  what  delicacy 
and  prudence  would  dictate.  I  only  wish  to  prepare 
you  for  what  the  purest  virtue  and  most  guarded  dis- 
cretion cannot  escape,  the  censures  of  ignorance,  and 
the  calumnies  of  malice." 

"  I  must  escape  them,"  returned  the  countess,  "  or 
be  undone.  The  wife  of  Lord  Avondel  must  equally 
avoid  reproach  and  guilt." 

"  I  know,"  rejoined  die  worthy  marchioness, "  whose 
sentiment  you  repeat,  but  her  history  will  rather  con- 
firm my  opinion.  None  have  lived  more  free  from 
fault — few  have  suffered  so  much  from  slander.  So 
prevalent,  indeed,  was  the  prejudice  against  her,  that 
when,  with  a  view  to  your  advantage,  she  formed  a 
design  of  again  appearing  in- London,  I  recommended 
her  to  abandon  her  intention.  I  found  it  impossible, 
either  by  my  own  protection,  or  that  of  my  Lord 
Glenvorne's  illustrious  and  irreproachable  connections, 
to  procure  for  my  innocent  and  injured  friend  such  a 
decided  countenance  as  would  reconcile  a  woman  of 
her  discernment  and  sensibility  to  society;  and  I  am 
fully  persuaded,  that  as  she  owes  her  present  peac:.  of 
mind  to  the  calm  enjovnienu  a  life  oi  tranquil  solitude 
affords,  so  even  the  conviction  of  her  own  rectitude 
would  not  have  preserved   her  from    anguish  amid 


220  THE  REFUSAL. 

the  irritations  of  contempt  and  the    sneers  of  detrac- 
tion." 

Emily  now  told  Lady  Glenvorne,  that,  though  she  knew 
her  to  be  the  faithful  friend  of  her  aunt,  she  had  ever 
feared  to  lead  to  that  subject,  lest  she  might  be  betrayed 
by  her  feelings,  to  solicit  from  her  an  explanation 
that  could  not  be  given  without  a  breach  of  confi- 
dence. 

'*  We  are  regular  correspondents,"  answered  she,  "yet 
I  know  nothing  beyond  what  you  are  informed  of.  I 
once  pressed  for  a  full  disclosure,  but  my  request  af- 
fected her  to  agony,  and  she  intreated  me  to  spare  her. 
On  your  arrival  in  London  she  conjured  me  to  regard 
you  as  my  adopted  daughter..  You  know  I  wished  to 
have  had  an  actual  right  to  that  title,  I  have  lamented 
the  impediment,  but  I  never  condemned  your  choice. 
Glenvorne  has  forgotten  you  sufficiently  for  his  own 
peace,  but  not  to  devote  his  heart  to  another.  I  now 
view  you  as  the  representative  of  my  early  friend,  en- 
deared still  more  by  your  own  noble  frankness  and  en- 
gaging simplicity.  And  this  double  capacity  of  heredi- 
tary friendship  and  personal  affection  justifies  me,  I 
trust,  for  the  liberty  I  have  taken  in  interrupting  Lord 
Norbury's  designs  this  evening." 

Emily  was  all  gratitude.  Unreserved  confidence 
succeeded;  and  the  marchioness  communicated  her 
conviction,  that  Norbury  meditated  a  hostile  attack,  if 
not  on  the  virtue,  at  least  on  the  reputation  of  Lady 
Avondel.  She  then  advised  her  not  to  inform  her 
lord  of  his  audacity,  nor  yet  to  behave  with  such  a 
pointed  avoidance  as  might  be  construed  i.ito  affected 
prudery,  that  worn-out  mask  of  hypocritical  vice. 
She  endeavoured  to  convince  her  young  friend,  that 
she  might  trust  to  the  purity  of  her  own  heart,  and 
the  guileless  simplicity  of  her  artless  manners,  till, 
wearied  by  her  coldness,  his  evanescent  attention  flew 
to  some  other  object ;  and  she  promised  her  presence 
in  any  emergency,  her  counsel  in  all  difficulties,  and  a 
firm  defence  of  her  conduct  against  those  invidious 
reflections  which,  she  warned  her,  seldom  spared  con- 
spicuous desert  and  eminent  station. 


THE  REFUSAL.  221 

Emily  now  began  to  accuse  the  capricious  world 
which  deemed  Lady  Selina  Delamore,  endued  as  she 
was  with  every  noble  and  endearing  virtue,  unfit  to 
enter  its  precincts,  while  it  clasped  in  its  meretricious 
embrace  such  a  character  as  Lord  Norbury ;  who, 
like  the  pestilential  winds  of  the  desert,  sought  reputa- 
tion by  his  power  of  destroying.  The  marchioness 
confessed  the  truth  of  this  accusation,  and  observed, 
that  people  were  generally  most  inimical  to  extraordi- 
nary desert,  and  glossed  over  the  failings  of  those 
common  characters,  who,  by  courting  the  favour  of 
others,  flattered  vanity  at  the  same  time  that  they  con- 
fessed themselves  destitute  of  any  real  claim  to  esteem. 
u  Fortune  too,"  said  she,  "  often  acts  as  an  impenetra- 
ble veil  to  many  rank  offences,  and  our  sex  is  always 
more  severely  dealt  with  ;  I  mean  not  only  by  the  con- 
tempt which  most  men  feel  for  women,  but  by  the 
harshness  with  which  we  also  treat  the  lapses  of  an  of- 
fending sister.  Thus  she  who  is  only  suspected  of 
having  sinned  against  decorum  is  either  entirely  shun- 
ned, coldly  received,  or  faintly  vindicated  ;  while  the 
male  libertine,  who  takes  upon  himself  the  office  of 
rumour,  and  even  boasts  of  more  crimes  than  he  has 
committed,  is  caressed  and  courted  by  the  generality, 
and  scarcely  discountenanced  by  the  serious.  Some 
justify,  none  abjure  him.  Yet,  how  much  soever  I 
may  lament  this  severity  to  women,  as  far  as  respects 
individuals,  and  however  I  insist  that  our  characters 
should  never  be  sacrificed  to  any  thing  short  of  positive 
proof  of  guilt,  I  dare  not  wish  for  a  repeal  of  that 
law  which  sentences  the  frail  female  to  obscurity. 
May  every  comfort  penitence  can  enjoy  attend  her  there, 
but  in  h<_r  mixing  again  with  the  world  I  see  danger 
to  the  innocent,  not  consolation  to  herself.  If  ever 
the  chastity  and  decorum  for  which  English  women 
have  long  been  celebrated,  are  exchanged  for  the  light 
behaviour  and  loose  morals  of  many  of  our  continen- 
tal neighbours,  the  alteration  will  be  introduced  by  a 
sort  of  false  candour,  recommending  lenity  to  offen- 
ders: and  the  eloped  wife,  the  frail  spinster,  and  the 


222  THE  REFUSAL. 

well-bred  courtezan,  will  glide  along  the  walks  of  fa- 
shion with  the  same  smiling  ease  and  self-possession  as 
those  with  which  the  libertine  and  debauchee  now  in- 
trude their  emaciated  figures  and  polluted  minds  into 
our  domestic  retreats ;  while  the  vigilant  husband,  or 
anxious  father,  dares  not  say, 

"  Satan  avaunt !  for  other  guests  are  here 
Then  thy  compatriots :  Modesty  and  Truth 
Bring  to  this  shrine  their  offerings  unprophan'd." 

Lady  Avondel  sighed  on  reflecting,  that  the  se- 
verest duties  were  required  from  the  gentlest  natures. 
"  Is  it,"  thought  she,  "  so  very  probable,  that  virtue 
should  not  entirely  escape  calumny  ?  and  are  the  stains 
of  slander  often  so  indelible  as  to  compel  virtue  to 
shun  observation  and  seek  shelter  in  the  penitentiary 
abodes  of  vice, — virtue  too,  adorned  by  unrivalled 
loveliness  and  superior  talent  ?  But,  alas  !  these  only 
excited  envy,  and  it  was  unprotected  virtue  that  was 
thus  persecuted.  My  dearest  aunt,  some  unrepealed 
misery  denied  thee  the  shelter  of  those  generous 
arms  which  would  have  shielded  thee  from  the  hell- 
hounds of  malice,  and  made  him  join  in  thy  condemna- 
tion whose  powerful  voice  would  else  have  silenced 
opprobrium.     How  different  is  my  blessed  lot !" 

She  now  recollected  Lord  Norbury's  observation, 
that  characters  often  change,  and  men  renounce  the 
principles  on  which  they  have  once  acted.  She  be- 
lieved this  possible  when  there  was  either  instability 
of  disposition,  or  an  unsound  judgment.  The  con- 
firmed virtues  of  her  lord  were  regular  and  stable  as 
the  revolutions  of  the  ccelestial  luminaries  ;  and  in  or- 
der to  insure  her  happiness  she  had  only  to  supplicate 
the  continuance  of  his  life,  and  that  she  might  be  pre- 
served from  those  errors  which  would  forfeit  his  es- 
teem, or  bend  his  lofty  crest  to  ignominy. 


[  223  ] 


CHAPTER  ,XV. 


Wia  was  man  so  eminently  rais'd 
Amid  the  vast  creation ;  why  oi'dain'd 
Through  life  and  death  to  dart  his  piercing'  eye, 
With  thoughts  beyond  the  limit  of  his  frame ; 
But  that  th'  Omnipotent  might  send  him  forth 
In  sight  of  mortal  and  immortal  powers, 
As  on  a  boundless  theatre,  to  run 
The  great  career  of  justice;  to  exalt 
His  generous  aim  to  all  diviner  deeds  ; 
And  through  the  mists  of  passion  and  of  sense, 
And  through  the  tossing  tide  of  chance  and  pain, 
To  hold  his  course  unfaltering. 

Akexside. 

LADY  Avondel  entered  her  own  mansion  breathing 
a  humble  prayer  to  be  preserved  from  folly  and  disho- 
nour. She  found  her  lord  returned  moody  and  pen- 
sive. Something  of  state  business  had  clouded  his 
temper.  The  bill  he  had  that  night  introduced  had 
undergone  so  severe  an  examination,  that  he  owed  his 
victory  rather  to  the  power  of  numbers  than  the 
strength  of  argument.  He  scorned  a  triumph  thus 
acquired;  and,  what  was  more  painful,  he  was  con- 
vinced, by  the  close  scrutiny  to  which  it  had  been  sub- 
mitted, that  instead  of  proving,  as  he  intended  it,  a 
vigorous  assistant  to  government,  and  at  the  same  time 
a  useful  regulation  to  the  subject,  his  favourite  mea- 
sure might,  in  the  hands  of  an  ambitious  man,  be  ren- 
dered an  engine  of  tyranny,  or  peculation.  He  had 
therefore  to  choose,  whether  he  should  press  a  regula- 
tion which  his  conscience  now  told  him  might  be  con- 
verted into  an  instrument  of  fraud  and  oppression,  or 
incur  the  censure  of  vacillating  conduct.  Besides  this, 
his  own  immediate  partizans  were  wedded  to  the  mea- 
sure, and  though  he  now  saw  enough  of  its  tendency 
to  discover  that  their  partiality  to  it  arose  from  inte- 

VOL.    I.  Ti 


224  TiIE  REFUSAL. 

rested  views,  he  could  not  desert  them  without  excit- 
ing their  animosity,  and  exposing  the  helm  of  state  to 
all  the  inconvenience  incident  to  distracted  counsels, 
and  jarring  factions.  The  hill  was,  too,  so  avowedly 
of  his  own  forming,  that  his  reputation  seemed  to  be 
staked  upon  its  being  passed.  Lord  Norbury,  in  a 
short  speech,  interwoven  with  many  personal  compli- 
ments to  the  earl,  had  declared  his  assent,  though  he 
had  not  deeply  studied  its  various  bearings,  placing 
implicit  confidence  in  the  wisdom  of  his  noble  col- 
league, of  whose  patriotism  and  laborious  research  for 
his  country's  good,  he  said,  this  might  be  considered  as 
the  first-fruits. 

Lord  Avondel  thought  Norbury  went  too  far  in  this 
speech,  but  he  made  allowances  for  zeal  and  admiration 
acting  upon  inexperience.  He  had  given  him  undivid- 
ed praise,  but  he  had  also  subjected  hin-  to  invidious 
responsibility.  'Twas  inconsiderate,  it  was  unwise, 
nay,  some  would  call  it  unfriendly  ;  for  the  preceding 
bill,  which  had  added  so  much  to  Norhnry's  political 
renown,  was  in  truth  no  other  than  a  misshapen  bant- 
ling, that  Avondel  took  up  after  it  had  been  abandoned 
by  its  heedless  parent,  and  which,  alter  he  had  cherish- 
ed, cultivated,  swaddled  it  into  shape,  and  nurtured  it 
to  perfection,  he  restored  to  its  author  ;  who,  instead 
of  recognizing  his  offspring,  hardly  recollected  i:s  ex- 
istence. But  as  he  had  disdained  to  claim  the  right 
of  sharing  in  Lord  Norbury's  praises,  he  thought  the 
same  principle  of  equity  ought  to  have  made  the  latter 
willing  to  participate  in  the  censures  to  which  he  was 
now  exposed  ;  especially  as  the  objectionable  clauses 
respecting  patronage  had  been  suggested  by  Lor.d 
Norbury,  and  unwarily  adopted  by  the  earl.  But 
much  must  be  allowed  to  youthful  zeal;  his  friend  had 
arrived  late  in  the  debate,  and  probably  d"<I  not  know- 
that  he  was  confirming  his  discredit,  instead  of  ad- 
vancing his  renown.  In  fine,  to  confess  a  secret  not 
very  honourable  to  human  nature,  though  the  profes- 
sion of  a  puffer  is  discreditable,  it  is  as  necessary  an 
appendage  to  greatness  as  a  maitre  d'hotel,  or  valet  de 


THE  REFUSAL.  225 

chambre.  The  versatile  talents  of  Norbury,  his  total 
want  of  steady  principles,  his  readiness  at  repartee,  the 
glibness  of  his  oratory,  and*the  neatness  with  which  he 
could  interweave  a  compliment  to  those  he  wished  to 
please  with  a  sarcasm  on  their  opponents,  had  rendered 
him  so  skilful  in  mixing  the  charmed  cup,  that  Lord 
Avondel  was  quite  intoxicated  ;  and  though  he  found 
his  eulogist  useless  at  the  council  board,  and  an  impe- 
diment rather  than  an  assistant  in  the  senate,  still  he 
thought  him  friendly,  and  that  in  time  he  would"  be 
really  wovthv.  Though  indolent  from  bad  habits,  and 
blundering  from  ofRciousness,  still  there  was  no  going 
on  without  Norbury.  I  am  convinced,  none  but  my 
uninformed  readers  will  start  at  my  uniting  the  pro- 
perties and  dispositions  of  a  flatterer  and  an  enemy  in 
the  same  person.  Besides  that  all  parasites  are  really 
enemies,  adulation  is  often  a  most  convenient  instru- 
ment to  practise  self-commanding  malice  ;  for  it  acts  as 
a  telescope,  and  discovers  all  the  blemishes  and  spots 
of  the  object  whose  grandeur  and  splendour  it  pro- 
fesses to  magnify.  Governed  by  pride  and  self-love,  we 
fortify  our  hearts  against  honest  reproof,  who  comes 
like  a  blunt  ally  to  tell  us  where  we  are  vulnerable  ; 
but  we  admit  the  sycophant  praise  into  the  fortress, 
who  generally  approaches  as  a  spy  to  see  the  weakness 
of  the  garrison,  to  discover  what  are  our  ruling  pas- 
sions, and  whether  violence,  perseverance,  or  strata- 
gem, be  most  likely  to  subdue  us  to  that  state  of  un- 
conscious captivity  in  which  superior  minds  often 
repose  contentedly,  enslaved  by  low  cunning,  or  trea- 
cherous rapacity. 

Tossed  in  a  whirl  of  thought,  Lord  Avondel  ex- 
pected the  return  of  Emily  with  that  sort  of  querulous 
impatience  which  prompts  us,  when  tortured  by  some 
vexation,  to  look  forward  to  an  event  from  which  no 
real  relief  can  arise,  and  vet,  to  the  delay  of  which  we 
attribute  part  of  our  mortification.  Lord  Norbury  had 
told  him,  that  he  met  the  countess  at  the  play,  and  that 
she  drove  off  to  Lady  Gienvorne's  evening  party.  He- 
did  not  repeat  her  comment  on  Lady  Teazle,  her  in- 


226  THE  REFUSAL. 

junction  that  he  would  hasten  to  support  her  lord,  nop 
intimate  that  the  evening  party  was  merely  an  instruc- 
tive tete-a-tete  betwt  en  the  two  ladies.  Two  o'clock 
eamc,  and  Emily  not  returned.  Where  was  the  Mar- 
quis ?  He  had  given  his  proxy  at  the  House  of  Peers  ; 
did  he  think  the  debate  on  such  an  important  business 
less  worthy  his  attention  than  his  mother's  rout  ?  He 
had  loved  Emily — Away  suspicion.  Gienvorne  was  a 
man  of  honour ;  and  even  Don  Diego  would  have 
tossed  away  his  padlock  had  Leonora,  with  the  simpli- 
city, possessed  the  modest  innocence  of  Emily's  look 
and  manner.  Her  faults  were  of  another  kind.  She 
had  so  little  confidence  in  her  own  judgment,  and  so 
much  timidity  in  her,  disposition,  that  she  was  not  a 
suitable  associate  to  a  man,  who,  in  his  public  career, 
had  too  many  difficulties  to  contend  with,  and  too  many 
perplexities  to  engross  his  thoughts,  to  admit  of  his 
attending  to  those  frivolous  minutiae  on  which  his  wife 
was  always  wanting  advice,  while  he  wished  her  to 
have  courage  to  counsel,  and  sagacity  to  assist  him. 
Selina  possessed  those  qualities.  In  his  present  diffi- 
culties, how  invaluable  would  be  such  a  ft  lend  as  Se- 
lina  ?  How  would  her  enlightened  and  dispassionate 
understanding,  elevated  above  the  narrow  views  of 
party,  elucidate  his  judgment,  and  confirm  his  resolves? 
Would  she  not  teach  him,  that  the  voice  of  honour, 
and  the  security  of  his  country  from  any  fresh  inunda- 
tion of  corruption,  were  pre-eminent  motives,  and  that 
the  mind  which  sacrificed  these  to  a  cowardly  fear  of 
temporary  disgrace,  or  petty  clamour,  could  not  belong 
to  the  Avondel  she  had  loved  ?  At  this  instant  the 
tender  Emily  appeared,  and  by  her  solicitude  for  his 
success,  and  anxiety  for  his  health,  rather  increased 
than  relieved  his  irritability.  He  felt  it  impossible  to 
answer  her  inquiries  without  paining  her  sensibility. 
He  could  not  be  amused  by  her  conversation,  nor 
soothed  by  her  affectionate  smiles.  He  could  only 
plead  fatigue  to  conceal  ill  humour.  After  a  perturbed 
night,  lie  rose  determined  to  act  as  Selina  would  have 
taught  him  ;  to  renounce  success,  to  hazard  reputation, 


THE  REFUSAL.  227 

and  to  own  his  error,  even  though  by  so  doing  he  lost 
his  friends.  By  thus  submitting  to  be  corrected  by  his 
opponents,  and  refusing  to  sacrifice  conscience  to  expe- 
dience, he  resolved  to  give  the  greatest  proof  of  cou- 
rageous patriotism  and  untainted  honour. 

Lady  Avondel  had  the  common  fault  of  young  af- 
fectionate wives — she  never  saw  her  lord's  brow  over- 
cast but  she  fancied  herself  instrumental  in  raising  the 
moody  vapour.  She  every  day  more  strongly  felt  her 
unfitness  for  the  public  station  in  which  she  was  called 
to  move,  and  she  looked  forward  to  the  temporary  con- 
finement she  expected,  not  as  a  period  of  mortification 
and  restraint,  but  as  a  delightful  state  of  freedom,  dur- 
ing the  continuance  of  which  she  should  not  be  re- 
quired to  sacrifice  her  own  pursuits  and  inclinations, 
and  at  the  same  time  endure  the  continual  conscious- 
ness that  she  was  offending  caprice,  and  gratifying  slan- 
der, by  a  thousand  undesigned  oversights  and  petty 
indiscretions.  To  escape  Norbury's  impertinent  atten- 
tions was  another  gratifying  hope.  She  knew  her  lord's 
veneration  for  the  primary  duties  of  social  life,  and 
doubted  not  but  that  he  would  in  future  allow  her  to- 
be  all  the  mother,  and  to  sacrifice  parade  and  publicity 
to  the  health  and  instruction  of  her  offspring.  She  felt 
no  doubt  of  her  capacity  to  discharge  these  duties  with 
steadiness  and  propriety,  and  she  saw  in  them  a  full, 
calm  and  satisfactory  enjoyment,  secluded  from  invi- 
dious observation,  and  free  from  harassing  restraints. 
Even  the  cares  of  this  new  character  she  was  convinc- 
ed must  be  delights,  because  they  would  be  accompa- 
nied by  the  consciousness  of  well-doing.  M  My  lord's 
affections,"  said  she,  "  will  be  bound  to  me  by  still 
stronger  ties,  and  I  shall  rise  in  his  estimation  while  I 
nourish  the  tender  frame,  and  direct  the  intellectual 
growth,  of  a  young  Avondel." 

Before  the  period  which  was  to  realize  these  expec- 
tations arrived,  she  contemplated  with  infinite  satisfac- 
tion a  visit  to  Castle  Mandeville,  whither  the  earl  had 
proaiisul  to  accompany  her  immediately  after  the  re- 
cess- She  also  cherished  a  hope  of  being  allowed  to* 
v  2. 


228  THE  REFUSAL. 

spend  a  few  days  at  Lime  Grove  ;  but,  though  Lord 
Avondel  had  not  forbidden  the  expectation,  Lady  Se- 
lina  herself  discountenanced  it  by  a  letter  penned"  in  a 
more  than  ordinary  strain  of  cheerfulness,  in  which  she 
expressed  herself  free  from  every  trouble,  except  the 
rapid  influx  of  wealth,  which  had  lately  increased  to 
that  excess,  that  she  had  resolved  to  take  an  excursion 
to  rid  herself  of  the  inconvenient  burden.  She  ex- 
pressed a  hope,  that  at  some  not  distant  period  her  per- 
sonal intercourse  with  her  beloved  niece  would  be 
renewed,  and  she  concluded  with  requesting  her  to 
keep  her  thoughts  more  fixed  on  the  great  blessings 
that  had  fallen  to  her  lot,  than  on  the  petty  inconveni- 
encies  by  which  they  were  accompanied.  "  Thus," 
said  she,  uyou  will  always  feel  a  powerful  call  upon 
you  to  gratitude,  fortitude,  and  equanimity  of  mind, — 
whereas  the  temper  which  abandons  itself  to  insignifi- 
cant cares,  cherishes  a  false  sensibility.  The  new  cha- 
racter in  which  you  will  be  called  upon  to  act  will  prove 
a  trial  to  tenderness  like  yours.  Guard  yourself,  my 
Emily,  against  excessive  cares.  There  is  a  bound  fixed 
to  every  virtue,  and  whenever  we  desire  distinction  for 
any  quality,  there  is  great  hazard  of  exceeding  the 
limits  of  right.  The  over-susceptible,  while  they  sur- 
render their  own  hearts  to  anguish,  torment  all  their 
connections  ;  but  fortitude  enables  us  to  subdue  petty 
iroubles,  and  to  be  objects  of  comfort,  rather  than  of 
distress,  to  all  around  us." 

This  letter  arrived  at  a  time  when  Emily  found  her 
spirits  sinking  under  a  variety  of  perplexities,  arising 
from  the  anxious  agitation  of  her  lord.  He  told  her 
little  of  the  cause  of  his  uneasiness,  aware  it  would 
alarm  her  apprehensive  mind,  and  afford  no  rebel  to 
his  own.  Convinced  that  he  should  never  satisfy  him- 
self bv  merely  conforming  to  those  "  fixed  and  settled 
rules,  that  letter  of  the  law  which  awes  vulgar  minds," 
he  resolved  that  the  measure  he  had  fostered  should 
not  merely  die  a  natural  death  by  withdrawing  his 
support,  but  that  he  would  candidly  avow  his  change 
of  opinion  as  to  its  tendency,  hold  it  up  in  terroreiru 


THE  REFUSAL.  009 

and  thus,  by  opening  the  eves  of  the  public,  prevent 
future  ministers  from  shielding  their  invasions  of  the 
constitution  under  his  name.  A  clamour  of  triumph 
rose  from  his  political  opponents,  while  his  friends  ex- 
pressed their  belief  that  Lord  Avondel  was  too  theo- 
retical to  make  a  good  practical  statesman.  The  noble- 
man who  acted  as  ostensible  premier,  whose  younger 
brother  looked  forward  to  the  enjoyment  of  one  of  the 
expected  sinecures  that  were  to  be  erected,  declared 
his  honour  would  no  longer  permit  him  to  go  on  in 
concert  with  a  man,  who,  from  a  want  of  firmness,  de- 
serted his  friends,  and  betrayed  at  once  their  characters 
and  his  own  ;  and  a  cabal  was  formed  to  displace  the 
person  whose  integrity  was  so  inconveniently  inflexible, 
and  whose  principles  of  government  seemed  at  once 
obsolete  and  impracticable. 

Lord  Avondel  saw  the  gathering  storm,  and  deter- 
mined to  abide  its  fury.  He  knew  it  was  impossible 
to  attach  disgrace  to  his  conduct.  His  hands  were  un- 
stained by  corruption.  No  sinister  design  shed  its 
mildew  on  his  civic  wreaths.  By  a  timely  resignation 
he  might  so  far  mollify  the  malice  of  his  enemies,  as  to 
be  able  to  steal  back  to  retirement  unquestioned  and 
uncensured.  The  mortifications  he  at  present  felt 
might  justify  him  for  preferring  the  solid  satisfaction 
of  self-enjoyment,  to  the  visionary  expectation  of  en- 
lightening and  blessing  an  ungrateful,  refractorv  world, 
where  the  insulting  shouts  of  detraction  always  sound 
louder  than  the  silver  trumpet  of  renown.  But  volun- 
tarily to  desert  the  post  where  his  sovereign's  confidence 
had  placed  him,  while  he  knew  he  retained  his  favour;  to 
quit  an  important  station  before  his  secession  could  be 
properly  supplied  ;  to  yield  to  clamour,  and  commit  the 
good  ship  to  such  pilots  as  were  unequal  to  the  helm,  even 
while  aided  by  his  counsels  ; — Was  this  true  honour  ? 
No  :  perish  that  petulance,  that  selfishness,  that  little- 
ness of  soul,  which,  in  such  circumstances,  looks  at  any 
thing  but  the  common  weal !  The  scribblers  of  the  day 
would,  indeed,  abound  in  invective.  They  would  sa- 
tirise his  insatiable  thirst  for  power,  call  upon  him  to 


230  THE  REFUSAL. 

renounce  his  vain  expectations  of  aggrandisement,  and 
retreat  to  that  oblivion  which  best  suited  his  confused 
ideas  of  government,  ere  he  was  ignominiously  driven 
from  his  station  by  a  concentration  of  force  he  could 
not  resist : — but  posterity  would  do  him  justice,  and 
they  who  venerated  a  Walsingham,  a  Faulkland,  and  a 
Clarendon,  would  honour  the  firm  and  upright  Avon- 
del. 

Amid  the  vexation  of  threatened  and  actual  resigna- 
tions, one  coadjutor  stood  firmly  at  his  side,  and  this 
was  Lord  Norbury.  But  as  he  could  not  be  prevailed 
upon  to  sacrifice  his  pleasures,  so  as  to  pay  a  steady 
attention  to  business,  his  assistance  did  little  towards 
relieving  the  earl's  fatigues.  His  name  was,  however, 
something,  and  his  party  was  useful  in  counting  a  ma- 
jority. Norbury  used  his  political  importance  to  pro- 
secute his  designs,  not  on  the  person,  but  on  the  repu- 
tation, of  Emily.  Her  frigid  indifference  to  all  his 
assiduities,  her  careless  insensibility  to  his  self-valued 
graces,  her  steady  attachment  to  her  lord,  evinced  no 
less  in  her  general  behaviour  than  in  the  glowing  rap- 
ture which  lighted  up  her  .face  whenever  his  ac- 
tions and  merits  were  discussed,  taught  the  reluctant 
coxcomb  to  confess,  that  the  virtue  of  one  woman  was 
inaccessible,  at  least  till  some  extraordinary  revolution 
shook  her  high-seated  confidence.  Yet,  still  he  conti- 
nued to  haunt  her  in  public  as  her  shade,  and  regard- 
less of  her  contempt,  preserved  an  air  of  intimacy  on 
his  part  which  might  satisfy  the  censorious  that  Emi- 
ly's reserve  was  the  affected  cover  of  criminal  familia- 
rity. Her  features  were  too  expressive  of  her  real 
sentiments,  and  too  little  subject  to  controul,  to  allow 
her  to  conform  strictly  to  Lady  Glenvorne's  advice,  of 
treating  Norbury  like  any  other  indifferent  person.  His 
society  was  disagreeable,  his  attentions  to  her  were  dis- 
gusting. But  her  Lord  continued  to  regard  him  as  a 
political  friend,  as  she  knew  enough  of  his  difficulties 
to  be  convinced  that  the  number  of  his  adherents  was 
too  small  to  admit  of  being  diminished  without  serious 
inconvenience.  Besides,  the  Marchioness  had  conjured 


THE  REFUSAL.  231 

her  to  be  prudent,  and  had  pointed  out  the  fatal  effects 
which  often  resulted  from  a  wife's  incautiously  direct- 
ing the  resentment  of  her  husband  to  the  insulter  of 
her  honour.  She  had  therefore  only  to  endure,  and 
count  the  days  and  hours  till  the  close  of  the  parlia- 
mentary campaign  would  remove  her  from  this  scer.c 
of  persecution. 


E  232  ] 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


Away  !  no  woman  would  descend  so  low. 

A  skipping-,  dancing-,  worthless  tribe  you  are, 

Fit  only  for  yourselves  :  you  herd  together, 

And  when  the  circling-  glass  warms  your  vain  hearts, 

You  talk  of  beauties  that  you  never  saw, 

And  fancy  raptures  that  you  never  knew. 

Eowe. 

NORBURY's  constant  attendance  on  the  Countess 
of  Avondtl  excited  general  observation,  and  that  invi- 
dious defamer  of  female  honour  was  well  skilled  in  the 
art  of  giving  observation  a  scandalous  direction.  He 
praised  her  beauty  in  the  most  rapturous  terms,  till  it 
was  impossible  for  any  one  not  to  be  convinced  he  felt 
its  power.  He  pleaded  guilty  to  the  charge  of  admir- 
ing her,  but  knowing  that  in  some  circumstances  a  can- 
did avowal  of  the  real  truth  sets  the  imagination  of  the 
invidious  at  work,  he  proclaimed  himself  the  most 
hopeless  and  desponding  of  all  adorers.  He  then  added, 
that,  though  doomed  to  a  life  of  despair,  he  was  still 
the  moth  hovering  round  the  candle,  attracted  by  the 
brightness  by  which  he  was  destroyed.  A  gay  smile 
and  significrnt  shrug  accompanied  this  allusion  to  his 
misery,  and  while  candid  people  viewed  him  as  a  dan- 
gerous trifler,  the  idle  wished  to  discover  the  mystery, 
and  the  censorious  knew  there  must  be  something  very 
wrong  in  the  affair.  Many  said  it  was  high  time  for 
the  worthy  husband  to  put  on  his  spectacles,  and  others 
observed  it  would  be  wiser  in  him  to  shut  his  eyes  ra- 
ther than  endanger  the  loss  of  12,000/.-  a  year.  The 
advantage  of  a  pretty  wife  to  a  falling  statesman  was 
discussed  with  great  humour.  Strangers  pitied  Miss 
Blandish,  but  her  friends  affirmed  that,  as  possession 
always  cured  passion,  if  she  were  but  patient,  she  had 
still  an  excellent  chance  of  becoming  Lady  Norbury, 


THE  REFUSAL.  233 

for  Avondel  was  too  poor  and  too  avaricious  to  sue  for 
a  divorce.  If  therefore  the  affair  became  public  the 
naughty  creature  would  continue  a  countess. 

While  envy,  malice,  and  credulity,  were  thus  en- 
livening the  ennui  of  constant  dissipation,  and  impart- 
ing a  zest  to  the  vapid  cup  of  satiating  amusement  by 
inventing,  analizing,  circulating,  and  contradicting  those 
surmises  and  probable  guesses,  bv  which  the  reputa- 
tion of  the  wise  and  good  are  made  the  diversion  of 
worthless  folly,  the  newspapers  announced  a  rupture 
between  two  noblemen  in  high  official  situations,  and 
that  the  resignation  of  the  senior  might  be  hourly  ex- 
pected. I  shall  not  mislead  my  readers  by  stating  the 
narrative  circulated  bv  Ladv  Caddv,  nor  the  inquisi- 
torial proceedings  at  the  duchess's  coterie.  For  though 
with  wonderful  memory,  invention,  and  perspicuity, 
each  ladv  knew  her  own  story,  and  could  tell  in  what 
room,  and  at  what  hour,  Lord  Norbury  was  discover- 
ed on  his  knees  to  the  countess  ;  how  many  times  she 
fainted,  what  oaths  the  earl  swore,  and  how  he  aiter- 
wards  refused  the  satisfaction  of  b ^ in 5  shot  at,  which 
Norbury  (very  much  like  a  gentleman)  offered  to  give 
him  ;  yet,  as  even  at  Danbury  we  art  on  a  par  in  this 
respect  with  the  most  adroit  titled  gossip  in  the  vici- 
nity of  Hyde  Park,  it  is  but  placing  Mr.  and  Mrs.  for 
my  lord  and  mv  lady,  and  we  shall  all  remember  that 
we  have  heard  similar  stories  fabricated  on  similar  oc- 
casions. In  such  a  variety  of  rumours,  I  feel  mvself 
obliged  to  call  upon  the  prescient  muse,  who,  as  she  is 
now  said  to  be  a  very  matter  of  fact  personage,  having 
resigned  her  talent  of  invention  and  exaggeration  to 
the  daughters  of  slander,  will  I  trust  in  future  be  ap- 
plied to  as  evidence  in  a  court  of  justice,  and  thus,  if 
banished  from  the  Lyceum,  may  take  shelter  in  law  re- 
ports. 

Be  it  known  then,  that  though  Lord  Avondel  was 
so  far  blkld«d  bv  his  love  of  adulation,  and  Norbuvy'a 
adroitness  in  preparing  the  grateful  potion,  as  to  form 
a  favourable  opinion  of  that  young  nobleman,  he  neither 
allowed  himself  to  be  misle'd  by  his  impetuosity  nor  to 


234-  THE  REFUSAL. 

overlook  his  foibles.  His  attachment  to  his  wife  rather 
resembled  the  protecting  care  of  a  kind  prudent  father, 
than  that  equalizing  affection  which  results  from  simi- 
litude of  years  and  dispositions,  and  which  perhaps 
never  arises  in  the  breast  of  a  man  unless  it  springs 
from  choice  rather  than  gratitude.  He  sincerely  wish- 
ed to  make  her  happy,  but  this  was  more  from  a  con- 
viction that  his  honour  required  it,  than  from  that 
acute  sensibility  of  tenderness  which  revolts  from  the 
idea  of  paining  those  we  love.  While  he  admitted 
that  her  attachment  to  him  was  a  tie  upon  his  honour, 
he  fancied  he  saw  in  it  a  peculiarity  of  taste  and  cha- 
racter which  was  unaccountable,  unless  explained  by 
the  strength  of  juvenile  prepossession  ;  and  he  always 
fancied  he  owed  his  wife  to  his  having  visited  Castle 
Mandeville  before  she  knew  London,  for  had  she  been 
first  solicited  by  more  attractive  lovers  she  never  would 
have  surrendered  "  her  blooming  charms  to  his  harsher 
uncomplying  years."  This  conviction  was  not  sullied  by 
jealousy.  He  had  a  firm  confidence  in  Emily's  truth  and 
love,  and  he  only  «  ished  her  to  be  as  well  satisfied  with 
herself  as  he  was  with  her  intentional  rectitude.  But  he 
perceived  in  her  mind  that  innate  weakness  which  would 
be  a  source  of  mutual  trouble.  In  public  his  behaviour 
to  her  might  be  quoted  as  an  example  of  correct  atten- 
tion. He  spoke  of  her  with  confidence  and  regard, 
and  ever  felt  anxious  that  his  gentle  consort  should 
enjoy  and  reflect  the  lustre  of  his  coronet.  Yet  his 
fear  that  this  tender  plant  should  either  be  shaken  by 
the  rebuffs  of  others,  or  corroded  by  the  canker  shroud- 
ed in  its  own  bosom,  made  his  eye  often  dwell  upon 
her  with  a  solicitude  that  alarmed  her  timidity,  and 
made  some  think  him  a  prey  to  doubts  which  his 
heart  was  too  noble  and  his  mind  too  enlightened  to 
entertain.  He  never  thought  the  ingenuous  child  of 
nature  would  really  disgrace  him,  and  he  only  wished 
to  preserve  her  from  the  oppression  of  her  own  fears. 
As  he  knew  she  never  merited  insult,  he  could  not  be- 
lieve that  either  in  her  character  of  his  wile,  or  from 


THE  REFUSAL.  235 

her  own  unoffending  sweetness  she  would  be  exposed 
to  impertinence  or  derision. 

Engrossed  as  his  mind  now  was  with  the  desire  of 
acquitting  himself  to  his  country  as  a  true  patriot,  he 
could  not  but  perceive  Emily's  extreme  dislike  to  Nor- 
bury.  He  knew  she  was  naturally  candid,  and  as  he 
was  persuaded  he  had  convinced  her  there  was  an  in- 
delicacy in  a  woman's  too  readily  suspecting  a  man  of 
designs  on  her  person,  he  began  to  fear  she  had  been 
alarmed  and  offended  by  some  approaches  which  were 
too  direct  to  be  overlooked  ;  and,  important  as  his 
hours  were,  he  determined  to  sacrifice  a  few  to  obtain 
conviction  by  attending  a  masquerade  to  which  he  had 
persuaded  his  countess  to  subscribe.  He  knew  Lord 
Norbury  intended  to  be  there,  and  to  embellish  his 
gay  figure  with  the  blaze  of  a  splendid  costume. 
Avondel  retired  to  his  cabinet  at  his  usual  hour,  and 
the  reluctant  Emily,  in  the  unstudied  attire  of  a  flow- 
er girl,  joined  her  party.  When  the  earl  thought  the 
motley  groupe  were  assembled,  and  so  fully  occupied 
that  he  might  mix  unobserved  in  the  crowd,  he  involved 
his  majestic  form  and  speaking  features  in  a  mask  and 
domino,  and,  declining  attendants,  walked  to  the  Pan- 
theon. There  he  not  only  saw  Lord  Norbury  pursue 
Emily  (who  was  walking  with  her  friends  unmasked 
and  agitated)  with  that  sort  of  decided  assiduitv  which 
is  painful  to  true  delicacy,  but  he  heard  him,  ou 
joining  a  riotous  set  of  his  gay  associates,  speak  of  her 
with  rapturous  enthusiasm,  indecorous  from  familiari- 
ty, and  warm  even  to  licentiousness.  Should  a  cox- 
comb, presuming  on  his  political  importance,  behave 
with  audacity,  or  speak  with  levity,  to  the  wife  of  the 
earl  of  Avondel  ?  The  indignant  husband  pulled  off 
his  vizor,  bowed  significantly  to  Norbury,  and,  join- 
ing his  consort,  changed  her  terrified  dejected  look  to 
the  most  joyous  delight,  by  thus  unexpectedly  appear- 
ing as  her  protector.  Supported  by  the  arm  of  her  re- 
vered lord,  and  encouraged  by  his  approving  smiles, 
she  instantly  rallied  her  depressed  spirits,  maintained 
the  playful  simplicity  of  her  character,  and   not  only 

vol.  i.  x 


236  'i'HE  KEFUSAL. 

enjoyed  the  evening  herself  and  communicated  delight 
to  others,  but  excited  in  her  husband's  mind  such  a 
high  idea  of  her  prudence  and  ingenuousness  as  recall- 
ed to  his  recollection  the  indelible  idea  of  Selina  in  one 
of  the  most  admired  parts  of  her  character. 

Lord  Norbury's  conviction,  that  he  was  absolutely 
necessary  to  the  earl,  confirmed  his  assurance  to  that 
height  that  he  appeared  the  next  day  in  Berkley-square 
with  his  wonted  air  of  familiarity.  He  found  his  host 
towering  to  the  summit  of  awful  dignity,  and  though 
Emily  was  less  constrained,  her  ease  seemed  more  the 
result  of  happiness  than  amenity.  He  proposed  to  re- 
new his  visit  next  day.  Lord  Avondel  pleaded  a  pre- 
engagement  with  such  marked  coldness,  that  Ncrbury 
was  fired  with  indignation,  and  said,  whatever  satis- 
faction he  had  derived  from  the  unlimited  hospitality 
he  had  been  permitted  to  claim,  he  could  sacrifice  his 
own  pleasure  when  it  was  incompatible  with  the  earl's 
repose.  But,  he  added,  that  since  his  political  friend- 
ships were  always  connected  with  his  personal  attach- 
ments, he  must  be  pardoned  if  in  future  he  supported 
ministry  no  further  than  his  honour  permitted. 

Avondel  unruffled  by  this  threat,  calmly  said,  "  My 
lord,  I  have  never  required  other  support;  and  if  your 
conscience  permits  you  to  change  your  creed  with  eve- 
ry start  of  wayward  inclination,  I  have  it  not  in  my 
power  to  suggest  motives  for  stedfastness  more  power- 
ful than  the  conviction  that  what  you  trifle  with 
are  the  safety  of  your  king  and  the  prosperity  of  your 
countrv.  But  I  must  correct  the  insinuation  that  your 
visits  disturb  my  repose.  It  is  Lady  Avondel  whom 
you  have  offended.  My  confidence  in  her  principles 
and  affection  for  me  cannot  for  a  moment  be  shaken. 
Yet  I  should  ill  requite  her  tenderness  did  I  not  in- 
terfere to  relieve  her  from  the  misery  she  suffers  from 
your  very  unguarded  admiration." 

Lord  Norbury  lightly  answered,  that  in  future  he 
would  as  carefully  avoid  exciting  Lady  Avondel's 
fears  as  he  would  the  touch  of  a  torpedo,  and  observed 
that  those  very  scrupulous  ladies  who  took  husbands  a 


THE  REFUSAL.  .  237 

little  mellowed  by  time  should  set  up  a  Medusa's  head 
over  Hymen's  temple,  to  warn  the  young  fellows  of 
the  age  that  it  was  consecrated  ground,  "  The  count- 
ess," added  he,  "  is  too  pretty  for  a  scarecrow.  Take 
my  word  for  it,  when  I  am  gone  you  will  have  other 
visitors." 

Avondel  rung  the  bell,  ordered  his  carriage,  and 
rested  his  arm  upon  the  table  in  dignified  silence. 

"  In  return  for  your  favours,"  said  Norbury,  ad- 
vancing to  the  door,  "  I  can  only  observe  I  wear  a 
sword.  I  leave  you  my  lord  to  appoint  the  time  and 
place  for  my  using  it." 

"  And  I,"  answered  the  earl,  "  live  in  a  country 
which  enjoins  me  to  keep  mine  in  the  scabbard,  except 
when  I  draw  it  in  her  sacred  quarrels.  Rash  young 
man,  would  you  heal  insult  by  committing  murder." 
My  sword  has  been  too  much  accustomed  to  the  field  of 
battle  to  start  from  its  sheath  at  an  unlicenced  sum- 
mons." 

"  '  f  is  well,"  replied  Lord  Norbury,  almost  choaked 
with  rage  ;  M  age  his  a  privilege." 

"  And  youth  an  apology,  which  a  true  friend  will 
respect.  My  lord,  I  still  have  that  confidence  in  your 
good  sense  to  expect,  that,  when  you  have  pondered 
calmly  on  this  interview,  we  may  at  some  future  pe- 
riod of  our  lives  be  friends." 

u  It  were  more  advisable,"  returned  Norburv,  piqued 
to  madness  by  the  calm  superioritv  of  Avondel,  M  for 
you  to  consider  how  our  present  rupture  can  be  explain- 
ed without  impugning  your  understanding,  or  subject- 
ing your  lady's  extreme  delicacy  to  reproach  by  throw- 
ing the  blame  on  her.  The  contingence  your  lord- 
ship alludes  to  is  highly  improbable." 

"  The  story,  Lord  Norburv,  is  in  your  hand,  my 
part  is  silence.  Yet  be  careful  of  your  own  reputa- 
tion when  vou  stake  it  against  mine  or  Lady  Avan- 
del's." 

Norbury  flung  out  of  the  house,  and  vowed  ven- 
geance. His  first  step  was  to  resign  his  office,  his 
second  to  despatch  a  circular  note  to  his  party  avowing 


238  THE  REFUSAL. 

his  intention  of  opposing  the  measures  of  the  earl  of 
Avondel.  He  next  debated  upon  the  expediency  of 
Maying  in  London,  and  answering  all  inquiries  into 
the  cause  of  this  breach  of  friendship  with  a  signifi- 
cant laugh,  or  a  mysterious  request  that  he  might  not 
be  urged  upon  a  point  which  honour  forbade  him  to 
divulge  ;  but  there  was  a  sternness  in  his  rival's  com- 
posure, raid  a  majesty  in  his  defiance,  which  alarmed 
him,  and  self- conviction  whispered,  that  though  envy 
or  credulity  might  interpret  his  insinuations  to  the  dis- 
grace of  the  Avondels,  the  judicious  and  considerate 
part  of  the  world  would  consider  him  as  an  unprinci- 
pled coxcomb  who  attempted  to  bespatter  the  virtue 
lie  could  not  corrupt,  and  to  undermine  the  happiness 
he  had  failed  to  destroy.  He  therefore  wisely  deter- 
mined  to  leave  London  in  sullen  silence,  and  he  trust-* 
<  d  to  his  parliamentary  dependants  to  perform  the  un- 
finished work  of  malice  by  making  Lord  Avondel  ieel 
those  pangs  as  a  statesman  which  he  had  warded  off 
as  a  husband. 

But  a  few  days  elapsed  before  the  countess,  missing 
their  constant  guest,  asked  her  lord  what  was  become 
of  Norburv  ?  "  Are  you  concerned  at  his  absence  ?" 
inquired  the  earl,  smiling.  "  No,  delighted,"  was 
her  reply.     u  I  only  wish  to  know  the  reason  :" 

"  He  is  forming,"  answered  Avondel,  "  the  design 
of  supplanting  me,  and  rising  upon  my  ruin." 

"  My  lord,"  said  Emily,  pale  and  trembling,  "  you 
dreadfully  alarm  me.  I  hope  I  am  not  the  cause  of 
Lord  Norbury's  enmity." 

"  Certainly  not,"  returned  the  earl,  "  unless  you 
have  fired  his  ambition  to  become  the  leader  of  a  party 
powerful  enough  to  make  and  unmake  ministers." — 
The  countess  perceived  by  her  husband's  manner  that 
he  wished  to  prevent  her  from  alluding  to  a  subject 
which  his  honour  must  compel  him  to  notice.  She 
recollected  Lady  Glenvorne's  advice  at  the  same  mo- 
ment, and  prudently  answered,  that  she  was  inexpe- 
rienced and  often  foolishly  fastidious,  which  might 
help  to  account  for  the  insuperable  dislike  she  had 


THE  REFUSAL. 

taken  to  Norbury.     ".But  how,"  said  she,  "  is  he  to 
rise  upon  jour  ruin  ?" 

"  We  are  changed,"  replied  Avondel,  "  from  firm 
adherents  to  political  opponents.  He  thinks  himself 
better  able  to  guide  the  state  than  I  am." 

44  Absurd,"  answered  the  countess,  while  the  co- 
lour rushed  into  her  faded  cheeks,  "  may  you,  my 
lord,  never  meet  with  a  more  formidable  opponent." 

14  We  must  not,"  said  the  earl,  "  fall  into  the  com- 
mon error  of  depreciating  the  power  of  our  enemies. 
I  have  reason  to  know  Norbury's  opposition  will  be  so 
formidable  that  I  must  now  ask  you  seriously,  is  your 
attachment  proof  to  a  change  in  my  fortunes  ?  Can 
vou  endure  seeing  me  less  an  object  of  public  atten- 
tion and  celebrity  ?  Can  you  relinquish  your  own 
importance,  submit  to  have  your  routs  less  crowded, 
your  beauty  less  admired,  your  patronage  less  courted  ? 
Tell  me,  my  Emily,  has  vanity  any  share  in  your 
affection  ?  or,  to  put  it  in  better  terms,  have  you  so 
little  of  your  sex's  love  of  glory  in  your  disposition 
that  a  degraded  statesman  may  still  hold  his  full  pre- 
eminence in  your  heart  r" 

44  O,  my  dearest  lord,"  said  the  countess,  clasping 
her  hands,  while  her  dovelike  eyes  swam  in  tears  of 
rapture,  "  I  fear  I  shall  offend  you,  or  I  would  say, 
are  you  certain  this  blessed  dismissal  will  take  place  i 
Shall  I  see  you  relieved  from  anxiety  and  fatigue,  and 
shall  I  enjoy  the  two  greatest  blessings  this  world  af- 
fords, a  life  of  tranquillity  and  your  society  ?" 

44  How  truly  feminine  is  her  character,"  thought 
Lord  Avondel.  "  She  has  all  the  weakness  and  all  the 
virtues  which  characterize  the  sex.  'Tis  impossible 
not  to  praise  her  gentleness,  but  I  must  lament  that 
her  confined  views  never  extend  beyond  the  pale  of 
domestic  life.  She  loves  her  country,  she  wishes  welt 
to  all  the  human  race  ;  her  fond  idolatory  connects 
the  security  of  the  commonwealth  with  my  re- 
taining the  helm  of  government ;  vet,  because  the  ser- 
vice of  the  public  is  attended  with  cares  and  privation?, 
the  welfare  of  millions,  the  honour  of  the  state,  mv 
x  2 


240  THE  REFUSAL. 

present  fame,  and  future  glory,  are  all  incapable  of 
poising  the  scale  against  her  preponderating  desire  of 
fully  enjoying  the  present  hour.  She  is  not  the  mother 
of  the  Gracchi,  exhorting  her  sons  to  die  for  liberty. 
No,  she  is  the  tender  Andromache,  hanging  on  the 
arm  of  Hector,  while  beleagured  Troy  trembled  at 
the  shock  of  assailing  Greece,  and  detaining  him  from 
battle  who  was  to  save  herself  from  captivity  and  her 
infant  from  death."  His  lordship  then  sunk  into  a 
reverie,  pondering  on  the  marked  inferiority  of  the 
female  character,  and  with  much  self  complacence, 
and  little  foresight,  condemning  those  who  submitted 
to  its  influence,  while  with  a  degree  of  refinement, 
bordering  on  fastidiousness,  he  lamented  that  his  con- 
sort's intense  love  wanted  discrimination  to  appreciate 
the  worth  it  adored. 

Harassed  by  faction,  deserted  by  ingratitude,  and 
goaded  by  malice,  Lord  Avondel  continued  to  smug- 
gle with  the  difficulties  of  the  station  he  found  it  im- 
possible to  retain,  till  the  recess  of  parliament  afforded 
leisure  to  make  fresh  arrangements.  He  then  directed 
his  sovereign's  choice  to  an  able  successor,  and  resign- 
ed the  insignia  of  office.  Avondel  felt  it  his  duty  to 
retire,  because  the  opposition  had  been  rather  personal 
than  political ;  but  with  generous  integrity  he  refused 
every  emolument,  and  promised  his  independent  sup- 
port to  the  measures  which  were  proposed  to  be  pur- 
sued with  a  frankness  that  spoke  his  generous  patriot- 
ism. He  then  accompanied  his  happy  Emily  on  her 
summer  excursion  to  Mandeville  Castle,  and  partook 
of  the  joyous  hospitality  of  Sir  Walter.  The  baronet 
was  almost  frantic  with  rapture  at  receiving  his  revered 
friend  in  the  character  of  husband  to  his  niece,  in 
witnessing  his  generous  behaviour  to  his  lovely  timid 
spouse,  and  in  anticipating  the  prospect  of  an  heir 
which  was  to  engraft  the  family  and  fortunes  of  the 
Mandevilles  on  one  of  the  noblest  stocks  in  Britain, 
whether  considered  as  to  its  past  honours  or  the  illus- 
trious qualities  of  its  present  head.  During  the  few 
weeks  that  he  was  blessed  with  their  society,  he  deter- 


THE  REFUSAL.  241 

mined  the  whole  neighbourhood  should  be  as  mad  as 
himself;  and  Emily  still  found  her  desired  tranquillity 
and  the  uninterrupted  enjoyment  of  her  lord's  conver- 
sation deferred  to  a  future  period. 

Lord  Avondel  returned  to  London  early  in  the  win- 
ter to  receive  the  honoured  name  of  father,  and  to  sup- 
port his  terrified  consort  through  a  trial  for  which  the 
timidity  of  her  mind  and  the  delicacy  of  her  frame 
rendered  her  peculiarly  unfit.  Her  grateful  sense  of 
her  lord's  generous  attentions  to  her,  still  increased 
her  affection,  and  a  son,  a  young  Sydney,  rewarded 
her  sufferings.  But  the  lovely  label  partook  of  the 
fragility  of  its  mother,  and  seemed  to  require  an  ex- 
traordinary degree  of  care  and  watchfulness.  Emily, 
still  "  a  faded  rose,"  entered  upon  her  new  character 
with  a  solicitude  natural  to  a  mind  which  suffered  it- 
self to  be  engrossed  by  one  duty.  Though  never  more 
fondly  and  faithfully  a  wife,  her  anxiety  to  rear  the 
tender  plant  which  Providence  had  committed  to  her 
care,  made  her  often  forget  what  was  due  to  the  in- 
clination and  temper  of  her  husband,  and  that  in  de- 
voting herself  so  exclusively  to  the  occupations  of  a 
nurse  she  deprived  him  of  his  companion,  and  con- 
verted into  a  solitude  that  noble  mansion  which  ought 
to  reflect  the  splendour  of  hospitality  and  the  magni- 
ficence of  patronage  and  benevolence. 

Independently  of  the  natural  feelings  of  a  father, 
Lord  Avondel  welcomed  the  heir  of  his  honours  with 
the  exultation  of  a  man  who  possessed  the  strongest 
attachment  to  hereditary  rank,  and  piqued  himself  on 
supporting  the  dignity  of  a  long  line  of  ancestors.  But 
the  limited  events  of  the  nursery  could  not  engross 
his  mighty  mind.  After  having  been  present  at  one 
debate  on  the  superior  qualities  of  biscuit  pap,  he 
thought  the  bill  which  enacted  its  use  might  pass  by 
an  exertion  of  regal  authority  without  dignifying  the 
opposition  of  nurses  by  allowing  further  discussion. 
The  wit  and  beauty  of  the  charming  infant,  though 
far  superior  to  what  two  months  ever  before  ripened 


242  THE  REFUSAL. 

in  the  human  frame,  would  engage  him  for  a  quarter 
of  an  hour,  but  seemed  not  sufficient  to  occupy  a  mind 
which  knew  the  interests  and  policy  of  every  Euro- 
pean court,  and  meditated  on  the  means  of  rescuing 
his  country  from  the  machinations  of  foreign  enemies, 
and  the  turbulence  of  domestic  factions.  Though  in 
reality  "  glorious  in  his  fall,"  the  world  considered 
him  to  be  a  disappointed  man,  and  notwithstanding  he 
founded  the  rule  of  right  on  the  dictates  of  his  own  con- 
science rather  than  on  universal  opinion,  still  renown 
was  necessary  to  his  repose,  and  the  principles  on  which 
he  acted  had  not  power  to  stifle  what  he  termed  "  im- 
mortal longings  for  high-sounding  fame."  He  was 
particularly  restless  under  the  pressure  of  undeserved 
opprobrium,  and  yet  neglect  was  worse,  it  was  a  living 
death.  Norbury  had  injured,  insulted,  and  deserted, 
him.  He  panted  for  what  he  called  noble  revenge. 
This  was  the  power  of  convincing  Norbury  of  his 
errors,  reclaiming,  and  forgiving  him. 

While  he  ruminated  on  these  schemes  of  public  be- 
nefit and  private  gratification,  he  often  wished  Lady 
Avondel  would  not  interrupt  his  musings  with  the 
weak  indulgence  of  her  maternal  cares.  But  though 
he  sometimes  convinced  her,  that  she  was  yielding  to 
her  natural  infirmity  of  being  so  anxious  to  discharge 
her  duty  that  her  terrors  counteracted  her  ability,  she 
had  an  ally  in  Mrs.  Caudle  against  whose  volubility 
and  officiousness  argument  was  ineffectual.  The  busy 
widow  had  persuaded  herself  it  was  her  duty  to  pay 
daily  visits  to  Berkley-square  to  instruct  the  inexperi- 
enced young  matron  in  the  sure  method  of  rearing  the 
important  bantling.  She  regularly  brought  with  her  a 
new  raised  host  of  apprehensions,  and  consigned  the 
precious  charge  she  so  doated  on  to  some  fresh  disor- 
der, the  symptoms  of  which  exactly  tallied  with  some 
of  the  infantine  calamities  that  had  afflicted  one  of  her 
seventeen  children.  In  proportion  as  the  little  Caudle 
had  suffered,  or  was  relieved,  so  the  tender  Emily 
hoped  and  feared,  till   at  her   next    visit,  the    sybil 


THE  REFUSAL.  24J 

changed  the  measles  into  the  hooping  cough,  or  remov- 
ed all  apprehensions  of  rickets  by  discovering  prognos- 
tics of  the  hydrocephalus.  The  infirm  state  of  Lady 
Avondel's  health  rendered  her  more  pardonable  fou 
becoming  a  prey  to  these  terrors,  but  the  earl  felt  ap- 
prehensive that  he  should  soon  find  himself  an  insu- 
lated being,  and  his  house  a  hermit's  cell  without  its 
quietness.  Sometimes  a  sleepless  night  prevented 
Emily  from  appearing  at  dinner.  At  others  the  ex- 
pected party  was  put  off  because  Mrs.  Caudle  per- 
ceived the  young  lord  was  in  a  most  dangerous  state  : 
and  Lord  Avondel  was  more  than  once  compelled  to 
renounce  an  appointment  that  he  might  attend  a  con- 
sultation of  physicians  and  know  if  there  was  any 
hope  of  his  son's  surviving  such  a  complication  of  dis- 
orders as  Mrs.  Caudle  had  imported  that  morning. 

Thus,  with  the  most  eligible  prospects,  an  unusual 
assemblage  of  valuable  qualities,  and  without  the  in- 
tervention of  any  external  calamity,  Lord  and  Lady 
Avondel,  like  all  the  rest  of  the  sons  and  daughters 
of  Adam,  continued  in  the  vain  pursuit  of  that  phan- 
tom, perfect  happiness.  The  former  often  recollected 
that  the  sensibility  of  Sdina  had  never  degenerated 
into  nervous  susceptibility.  His  unsubdued  regret  at 
losing  her  continued  to  impress  on  that  unattainable 
object  the  fallacious  stamp  of  perfect  excellence,  and 
the  bright  vision  of  felicity  which  his  fancy  inseparably 
connected  with  the  possession  of  his  first  love,  cast  a 
deeper  shade  on  the  foibles  of  his  consort.  Could 
Lord  Avondel  have  been  persuaded,  that  the  fair  herit- 
age which  he  actually  enjoved  really  overpaid  his  de- 
serts, those  blessings  would  not  only  have  proved  more 
permanent,  but  he  would  have  found  their  immediate 
value  increased  by  a  humble  sense  of  his  own  demerits, 
and  a  grateful  enjoyment  of  the  liberal  bounty  of  Pro- 
vidence. But  inordinate  self-esteem,  though  founded 
upon  the  most  noble  properties,  indisposes  the  heart  to 
enjoy  the  happiness  for  which  it  repines.  Humility 
ever  possesses  a  sort  of  sabbatical  rest,  when  combined 


244  THE  REFUSAL. 

with. that  devout  resignation  which  alone  can  render  it 
real.  Even  the  miser  and  the  debauchee  have  their 
occasional  festivals,  when  the  purse  is  well  crammed, 
or  the  wine  laughs  in  the  goblet,  but  the  man  who  mis- 
takes pride  for  sensibility  never  enjoys  sunshine.  His 
imagination  peoples  the  world  with  indignities,  he  is 
ever  fighting  against  fancied  insults,  he  sees  disrespect 
in  a  bow,  and  discovers  sarcasm  in  a  compliment:  And 
when  by  his  fastidiousness  he  has  created  the  enmity 
he  suspects,  he  fortifies  his  mind  against  the  opprobri- 
um of  the  better  part  of  his  species  by  drawing  round 
him  an  assemblage  of  the  worst.  The  proud  man's 
career  generally  ends  in  his  being  the  dupe  of  syco- 
phants. His  talents  and  virtues,  deprived  of  the  lus- 
tre they  would  receive  from  collision,  become  incrusted 
with  misanthropic  rust,  till  he  sinks  into  the  prey  of  the 
cabal  he  has  created,  and  is  the  ridicule  of  the  world 
he  was  born  to  serve  and  adorn. 

Lady  Avondel,  on  the  other  hand,  from  the  total 
want  of  self-confidence,  knew  herself  to  be  for  .ever 
falling  short  of  the  perfection  to  which  she  aspired  ;  and 
not  properly  considering  the  general  imbecility  of  our 
nature,  she  was  too  much  depressed  by  those  infirmi- 
ties which  she  ought  to  have  resisted,  and  implored 
divine  assistance  to  subdue.  Her  fond  idolatry  of  her 
lord  made  her  deem  his  splendid  qualities  absolute 
perfection,  and  contemplating  him  as  the  unerring 
standard  of  right,  she  continually  deplored  his  sup- 
posed degradation  at  being  yoked  to  such  an  unequal 
partner,  whose  faults  and  failings  formed  an  insupera- 
ble bar  to  his  possessing  that  full  happiness  his  deserts 
merited.  Thus,  even  diffidence  may  lead  us  into  error 
unless  it  is  enlightened  by  that  celestial  splendour  that 
beams  from  the  page  of  revelation,  which  teaches  us 
that  being  weak  in  ourselves  we  must  implore  the  in- 
vincible support  of  a  never-failing  friend.  The  infir- 
mities of  our  nature  may  be  supernaturallv  supplied 
with  impenetrable  armour,  which  shall  confirm  our 
trembling  knees  and  nerve  our  powerless  arm.     Thus, 


THE  REFUSAL.  21 J 

whether  we  look  at  our  virtues  or  our  failings,  we  are 
in  clanger  of  offending,  unless  we  consider  the  former  to 
be  so  mixed  with  error  as  to  require  forgiveness,  and 
the  latter  as  capable  of  being  subdued  by  piety  and 
fortitude.  We  are  not  blind  when  we  submit  to  the 
will  of  Omniscience,  nor  are  we  weak  when  we  depend 
for  support  on  an  Almighty  arm. 


2XD  OF  VOL.  I- 


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